


Lake Soldier

by ColonelTravis1836



Category: And Then There Were None - Christie
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 04:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21368404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColonelTravis1836/pseuds/ColonelTravis1836
Summary: NYPD Detective Charlie Maine is working a case concerning an evasive man. When Charlie and his team crack down on the suspect, Philip Lockard, they find him dead by suicide, with a threatening invitation to a remote island in the Pocono Mountains, from a "U.N. Owen"Charlie then is tasked with going undercover as Lockard to find out how Mr. Owen knows about him. He arrives on the isolated island in the middle of a large lake with nine other individuals; one of them he's known since High School.The invitation turns out to be a trap, as the guests are left stranded on the island, and accusations are declared against all of them; accusations of murder committed out of the law's reach.And then, one by one, the guests are murdered. And now Charlie has to find out who the unknown murderer is, even if he has to suspect his high-school crush.This is a modern retelling of Agatha Christie's worldwide phenomenon "And Then There Were None." The crimes have been altered to fit the social and political issues of today.Disclaimer: I take no sides in politics or beliefs. This story showcases guilt in all. Please read with an open mind.Rated M for Topical Issues, and Trigger Warnings
Relationships: Vera Claythorne/Philip Lombard
Kudos: 10





	1. ELEVEN!

**PROLOGUE: Eleven Little Soldier Boys Went to War Again; One Lost His Nerve, And Then There Were Ten.**

Tonight, was the night. The entire team was absolutely certain of it. For months there were complications and obstacles, but they were all past them, and tonight was the night they were closing in.

NYPD Detective 35-year old Charles Maine sat in the front passenger seat of the black SUV that was parked on the curb on that lonely street in the middle of NYC. This was one of his first assignments and it was one hell of a pickle. But everything checked out, and all signs led to this location. His commanding officer, Lieutenant Legge, sat in the driver’s seat, his fingers tapping on the wheel. The anticipation seemed to get to him as much as it had gotten to Charlie.

“So, what are we waiting for here?” He asked.

“The landlord.” Legge answered. “Once he steps outside, he’ll let us know. If our target’s inside, we close in. If not, then we’re shit out of luck.”

Charlie nodded. “What do you think are the chances?”

Legge shook his head. “Not good. This bastard has been giving us the slip right from the start. Covered all of his tracks. Anything that could’ve incriminated him was lost forever. He saw to that.”

“But he must’ve had some sort of help?” Charlie suggested.

“Forensics are still looking into it now. As we speak, we do have one possible lead that pretty much condemns this man. It’s just a matter of trying to find said lead...”

Legge stopped short.

Ahead of him, the door to the apartment complex opened up. Charlie and Legge leaned forward to see who emerged. It was the landlord. And he looked in the direction of the black SUV, and slowly nodded.

“That’s it. Let’s get this son of a bitch!” Legge said as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Copy that.” Charlie said, as he grabbed his walker-talkie. “Squad! We’re moving in!”

Charlie, Legge, and two other detectives, Hayward and Morley, arrived at the front door, accompanied by 5 SWAT teammates. Legge raised his hand to get everyone’s attention, then made the signal, and they all rushed past the landlord.

*****

One SWAT member kicked the door opened and barged inside.

“NYPD! PUT YOUR HANDS UP!” Hayward shouted as he barged in.

When Charlie entered, he looked around the main room of the apartment. “Area clear!” He shouted.

As soon as they entered the bedroom however, Legge groaned in disbelief.

On the bed lay a man, about Charlie’s age, his body sprawled out across the mattress. His eyes were half-open, and there was a bullet-hole under the jaw, and the Smith & Weston .38 on the floor, no doubt dropped from the hand that dangled over the side of the bed.

“Damnit.” Legge murmured. “Must’ve acted fast.”

“But he’s the one, right?” Morley asked.

“Yep. This is him. Philip Lockard. The Freelance Contractor. He was a slippery little prick. And now he’s given us the slip one final time.”

“In a nutshell. And he had no associates?” Hayward asked.

“We’re convinced that he didn’t work alone. Or at least he had a connection somehow. But we can’t find out who it is.”

“More importantly, why would he commit suicide? From what the file said about him, he didn’t seem the type. Given his history, he didn’t really show remorse for what he did.”

Charlie was standing inside the living room, hovering over the coffee table. He bent down, put on his rubber gloves, and picked up a crumpled-up piece of paper. After opening it up and reading it thoroughly, he called Legge over. “Maybe this will point us in a direction.”

Legge took the piece of paper and read it carefully.

_Dear Mr. Lockard, _

_ You do not know me, and we’ve never met, but I know you. I know what you have done back in 2016. There’s really no use to deny what you did. And I repeat, you do not know me, but by the time you finish reading this letter, you will know what I am capable of. You thought you had all of your tracks covered. You thought you could trust your associate. I know who that person is as well, and what he has done. You may find it hard to believe in this day and age, but our past crimes will always find a way back to us, whether we like it or not. No deed goes unpunished. If you leave this letter unheeded, I assure you, it will not end well for you. The NYPD are onto you. As we speak, they are working around the clock to bring you to justice. But if you follow my instructions, there may be a chance for redemption. Yes, Mr. Lockard, I am giving you a chance to walk away, by coming to me. I invite you to my private island in the middle of Lake Soldier, located twenty miles North of Lake Wallenpaupack. I do not know if you have any prior knowledge of this island, but I purchased the island, and built a very exclusive Bed & Breakfast. I’ll be expecting you on Friday, August 9th. Arrive at the Narracott Ferry Dock, where a boat will be waiting to take you to the island. If you have any sense in you left after what you have done, I suggest you accept the invitation. It’ll be in your best interest. Do the right thing._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Ulysses Norman Owen. _

Legge looked up from the letter. “Lockard must’ve just gotten this today.”

“That explains his suicide.” Charlie added.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t seal the deal. Who is this Owen guy? How does he know all of this information. We keep this kind of shit extremely confidential.” Legge asked.

“But this letter does confirm that Lockard didn’t necessarily act alone. It does mention an associate.” Hayward suggested.

“But again, it doesn’t tell us anything. We need to know who sent this letter. We need to know if it’s legitimate, or if it’s just a hoax coercing Lockard into committing suicide.”

“Any theory on what the consequences will be now that Lockard won’t be showing up?” Morley asked.

“I’m not sure if I like the idea of finding out the hard way. We need the upper hand. According to the letter, this Owen guy has never actually seen Lockard face to face.” Legge said.

He then turned his attention to Charlie. “Maine, out of all of us, you’re the closest to Lockard’s build.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Charlie asked, unsure if he heard his commanding officer correctly.

“Maine, someone out there knows who this guy is, and Lockard was considered a high-profile case for the State of New York. The 9th is three days from now. We need to keep this suicide under wraps for the time being, and I need you to go undercover in Lockard’s place. As long as he doesn’t know what Lockard looked like, you go to the island and see if you can find out what this Owen guy knows, and _how _he knows who Lockard is.”

“I mean...I see your point.” Charlie began. “But are you sure it’s a good idea? I’ve never done undercover before.”

“I know. But right now, we have a very small window of an opportunity here. If you can find out what you can as Lockard, then we can work on tracking down his associate. Can you do this?”

Charlie swallowed hard. This was one hell of a rug that was pulled out from under him. But this was a good chance for him to make a good impression in the NYPD.

“Personally, I hate the idea, but if it’s a lead, I guess I’ll take one for the team.” He said.

**Friday, August 9th**

“Okay Maine...” Hayward said as he was driving Charlie down to the Ferry Dock. Morley sat in the back seat, with his laptop. “We did a surveillance as best as we could on the island. It doesn’t show us a good signal surrounding the place. We saw an image of the house having a radio antenna as well as a satellite dish, but there’s no activity detected. Our guess is that you might go dark when you reach the island.”

“Well...that’s reassuring.” Charlie said sarcastically.

“All the same...” Hayward continued. “Chad and I thought ahead. In your bag, I put in a high-beam flashlight, and a set of binoculars. You know how to send and read Morse, right?”

“Of course.” Charlie answered.

“Good. There’s a hotel overlooking the marina facing the South side of the Island. Chad will be staked out there with a good view of the island. He’ll be able to receive your signals.”

“Do you know who else is going to be there besides Owen?” Charlie asked.

“Unfortunately, not. Forensics is currently working on tracing the letter, seeing if they can get a lead on who sent it.” Hayward said.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Morley added. “Just the usual; keep your gun concealed unless absolutely necessary. And don’t compromise yourself under any circumstances. The fake ID was almost too last minute, but it looks convincing. Just send a signal reporting your findings, and we’ll take the proper procedures.”

“Right. Sounds simple enough.” Charlie said.

“Welp, we’re here.” Hayward said, as he pulled off of the main road and into the parking area of the dock. “Good luck.”

“Thanks...I think.” Charlie said, as he hopped out the moment the car pulled to a stop with his duffel bag. He straightened out his leather jacket and kept the zipper at half-way.

As soon as the car drove out of the parking lot, Charlie made his way to the ticket booth at the dock.

“Hi, can I help you?” The ticket vendor, Patrick Narracott asked.

“Hi, I’m here for the ride to the island.”

“Name?”

“Philip Lockard.”

“Okay, we’re just waiting for seven more people. If you’d like to wait on the water taxi?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Charlie stepped onto the dock and walked over to where the water taxi was moored at. Patrick’s older brother, Fred, was already sitting at the wheel.

“Hi. You Mr. Owen?” Fred asked.

Charlie stopped in his tracks. “Um...no. I’m Philip Lockard. Do...do you not know who Mr. Owen is?”

Fred shrugged his shoulders. “Haven’t met the guy yet. I know that he runs the B&B on that island, but I haven’t met him yet. Sorry about that.”

“Oh...that’s okay. But...I guess that means he’s not at the island yet?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen anyone that uses our services to that island. Either that, or they use a separate service.”

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was hoping to get at least a little bit of information about his ‘host’ from someone that would’ve certainly interacted with him.

His thought process was interrupted by the approach of another passenger.

Charlie looked up, and his heart dropped.

Liz Callahan walked down the dock. She was a beautiful young woman, at the age of 28, with long brown wavy hair and shiny black eyes. She walked along the dock in tight jeans, a tank top with a red blazer and hiker boots. As soon as she saw Charlie, she stopped walking. She recognized her high-school friend almost instantly.

Acting on instinct, Charlie hopped back off of the boat to greet Liz. “Oh my god, Liz? It’s me! Philip!”

Liz looked at him confused as she went in for a hug. When Charlie held her tight, he whispered in her ear. “I’m working a case, my name’s Philip Lockard. I’ll explain when I can, but I need you to play along!”

“Okay...?” Liz hesitantly said.

Charlie offered to help with Liz’s suitcase as the two of them returned to the water taxi.

“So...” Liz began. “How’ve you been, Philip?”

“Eh...I’ve been better. Work’s kind of demanding at the moment. How have you been?”

“I’m good. I’m good. Living the dream.”

“I was gonna say, you’ve quite the following on Instagram. Congrats on that, by the way.”

“Thanks! It’s actually sort of why I’m here.” Liz smiled.

“Oh?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah. A Real Estate firm reached out to me. According to her, Mrs. Owen was interested in my marketing technique when I do sponsorship deals, so she asked me to come spend the weekend at her B&B and see if I can help get the location on the map nationwide.” Liz explained.

Charlie looked at her with confusion. “_Mrs. _Owen? That’s weird. The information I received came from _Mr. _Owen.”

“Oh? What did your invite say?” Liz asked.

“Uh...” Charlie hesitated. “To tell you the truth, your guess is as good as mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“The...invite I received was, let’s just say, ambiguous.”

“What is it that you do...Mr. Lockard?” Liz asked, putting a slight emphasis on the name.

“Well...” Charlie began, choosing his words carefully so as not to give himself away even more than he already did. And his assignment had only just started. “...I am a freelance contractor. And...he’s asked me to come to this island for consultation about the layout of the location.”

“Oh. Sounds pretty straight forward if you ask me.”

Charlie shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, either way...” Liz continued. “it’s really great to see you again...Philip.”

Charlie smiled to himself. “Thanks. It’s great to see you too, Liz.”

Several minutes passed, before another person approached the dock. He was a man in his mid-twenties, with a man-bun, crocs, an Izod shirt and khaki shorts. He was carrying his duffle bag in one hand, and in the other hand, he held a vape-pen.

“Oh great...” Charlie muttered to himself.

“Right?” Liz agreed, having heard him.

The newcomer hopped onto the boat. “You guys here for the Owen B&B?” He asked.

“Yep. That’s us.” Charlie answered.

“Sup. Aidan Marshall. Anyone else show up yet?”

“Nope. Just you.”

“Dang.” Aidan said as he put down his duffle bag. As he sat down next to Charlie, he pulled out his phone and turned on his camera. He then held it up, and pressed record. “What is going on, YouTube? This is yo’ boy, Aidan Marshall! In case you haven’t noticed I am right now on a boat about to spend a weekend at a very exclusive B&B in Pennsylvania! And seated beside me are...”

Aidan pointed towards Charlie, who hesitantly said “Phil.”

“And...” Aidan motioned for Liz.

“Liz?”

“Coolio!” Aidan continued. “And we’re all just chilling, waiting for the boat to get going. Hopefully I’ll be able to take you guys with me on this little mini vacay! Will keep you updated as the weekend unfolds! Be sure to like this video and subscribe if you haven’t already! And as always, click the notification bell so you’ll be notified when a new video is uploaded! See you soon!” Aidan announced in his vlogging voice.

After Aidan pocketed his phone, Charlie looked in his direction. “I’m guessing you’re a YouTuber?” He asked rhetorically.

“One of the best there is!” Aidan exclaimed.

“Oh wow. How many Streamies did you win?” Charlie asked.

Liz snorted. Aidan was not amused. Charlie was not finished.

“What kind of content do you deliver?”

“Uh...just daily stuff about my personal life.”

“Nice. And...how did you get so famous?” Charlie asked.

“I did a little bit of reality television a couple of years ago.” Aidan answered.

“Oh, ok. And what were some of the shows you were on?”

“Eh, I doubt you’ve heard of them. My latest one was a dating competition between college students.”

“Oh? What was the title? Semester of Love?” Charlie asked.

Liz struggled to hide her smile.

“Actually, yes.” Aidan answered smugly.

“Oh. That’s cool. Did you win?”

“You know what buddy; I think I should focus on getting this video uploaded before we get to the island.” Aidan said, before shifting his body away from the others to focus on his phone.

Charlie looked in Liz’s direction, and the two of them held a glance of amusement.

About five minutes had passed before another person approached on the docks. He appeared to be in his late 30s. He was African American, in a hooded sweatshirt and black jeans.

“You guys here for Soldier Island?” The newcomer asked.

“Yeah. I’m Liz Callahan, this is Aidan Marshall and...Philip Lockard.” Liz made the introductions.

“Sup? Name’s Lamar Blaine.” Blaine clasped hands with the other three.

“Nice to meet you, buddy.” Charlie said. “So, what brings you to this island?”

“Oh, not much. Was looking to try out B&B for the first time. And this place offered a really good deal since it’s like, brand new, ya feel me?”

“I know, right?” Aidan agreed.

Another minute had passed before a black limousine entered the parking lot. A man dressed in a black suit with a blue tie, emerged from the backseat. A much younger man exited from the other side and approached him with a clipboard. Charlie couldn’t make sense of what was being said. From what he could observe, the older man appeared to be going over somethings whilst the younger man appeared apprehensive. After a couple more minutes, the younger man re-entered the limousine, while the older man approached the docks.

“Right this way, Mister Senator.” Patrick said, leading the way to the water-taxi.

“A Senator?” Liz quietly asked Charlie.

“Apparently.” Charlie responded.

Senator Gordon McCreevy stepped onto the boat. Up close, he appeared to look ten years older than a man in his mid-sixties, with his silvered hair and wrinkled forehead.

“Afternoon, all.” The Senator greeted. “Is this the boat to Soldier Island?”

“Yes, sir!” Liz answered.

“Excellent!”

After introductions were made, everyone’s attention was turned to two more taxis entering the parking lot. The first one had a middle-aged woman exit. She gave off a vibe that made you afraid to crack a joke, with her tight face, straw yellow hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and wrinkled neck.

The second taxi’s customer appeared to be much older than the Senator, with a wrinkled face, a neck that appeared to extend like a snapping turtle, and white hair on the sides.

The two of them stepped onto the docks at the same time. Charlie and Blaine stood up to assist the two newcomers step onto the boat.

The middle-aged woman addressed herself as Eleanor Beauregard, and the elderly man addressed himself as Judge Leonard Westbrook.

“Did anyone meet with the Owens yet?” Miss Beauregard asked in a sharp tone. “I find it practically unorthodox that they would not be at the harbor to meet with us.”

As they took their seats, Patrick approached the boat.

“Um...ladies and gentlemen. I was just contacted via email. The party-in-question had encountered a last-minute emergency. They will arrive later tonight. They send their sincerest apologies.”

There was a soft chorus of groans and disappointments. The group’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of one more car. And its driver had barely hopped out of the car as he pulled into the parking lot and hustled down to the dock.

Doctor Colin Andrews was a rather scruffy looking man in his early 40s, with dark blue eyes, bushy red hair with unkept beard and spectacles. He looked as though he had a rough day in getting here. As soon as he hopped on, he sat down and caught his breath.

“Sorry for holding you guys up. Had some car trouble on the way over.” The Doctor said.

“It’s all good.” Fred said as he returned to the wheel while Patrick loosened the mooring lines.

“Enjoy your stay!” He said as he waved to the eight passengers.

*****

“By the way...” The Doctor asked, while wiping his forehead. “Does anyone own a yellow Lamborghini?”

Aidan raised his hand. “Oh yeah! That’s me! Pretty nice, isn’t it?”

“No...not really.” Dr. Andrews said flat out. “I had a flat tire over on Rt. 6, and _you_ nearly side-swiped me!”

There was an awkward silence before Aidan spoke up again.

“Geez...sorry, bro. But maybe next time don’t have a flat tire so far out into the middle of the street.”

“Seriously?! I was on the side of the road, and you just flew past me! I wish I took down your license plate, but I was worried about missing the boat.” Dr. Andrews exclaimed.

“Dude, I said I was sorry.” Aidan said.

There was something in his voice, that led Charlie to believe that Aidan wasn’t _completely _sorry for what happened. In fact, he couldn’t exactly place what Aidan’s attitude on the matter was. But something was off about him.

“Well...it’s over with now.” Judge Westbrook spoke up. “I’m sure it can be sorted out over the course of the weekend.”

“Are you kidding me?” Aidan complained. “I came to this island for vacation. Not to go over some accident that never happened.”

“You almost side-swiped me!” Dr. Andrews insisted.

“But I didn’t!” Aidan continued.

“Gentlemen!” The Senator exclaimed. “Please, let’s not start off on a bad note. Let’s just...acknowledge that it happened and move on.”

Aidan, for his part, simply leaned his elbow over the side of the ship, as he puffed on his vape-pen.

Miss Beauregard coughed. “Must you young men insist on those devilish instruments?!”

“Pfft.” Aidan scoffed. “Some vacation.”

Charlie and Liz looked at each other once more.

_‘Great start to the weekend.’ _Charlie thought.

“So...” Blaine began. “Will it just be the eight of us this weekend?”

“No, there’s already a married couple on the island. They just got hired by the Owens to look after the house. Mr. & Mrs. Romero. They’ll be there for any needs you might require.”

“Well that’s good to know.” Dr. Andrews said.

*****

After fifteen minutes, the boat had arrived at the little island that sat dead center in the middle of the giant lake. The lake was so large, if it weren’t for the mountains of trees in the distance, one would assume they would be in the ocean. A swimmer could not reach the mainland from Soldier Island without encountering exhaustion at least halfway across.

The island itself was wrapped around with pine trees, nearly blocking out the view of the house completely. At the island’s peak, there stood a radio antenna that was barely visible over the top of the trees. On the southern side, there was a large peninsula of rocks piled up about 100ft away from the shoreline. 

The house itself was large. It was designed to look like a modernized log cabin. There was a terrace in the front, and a swimming pool in the back. Inside the house there were eight guest bedrooms on the second floor. The four bathrooms adjoined between two bedrooms each. On the first floor was the foyer, a dining room, the kitchen, the library, and a lounge. The staff had a bedroom on the left side of the foyer. Hanging over the front door was the mounted head of a large black bear.

In the middle of the foyer, was a singular table. And resting on the table was a centerpiece, consisting of ten little china figures that appeared to look like infantrymen from the Napoleonic wars.

Jose and Isabel Romero waited by the front door. They were a middle-aged Hispanic couple. The husband appeared to be pleasant. But the wife occasionally rubbed her wrists as if she saw a ghost.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Soldier Island. I am Jose Romero, and this is my wife, Isabel. We will be looking after you this weekend. If the gentlemen will follow me, and the ladies follow Mrs. Romero, we will show you to your rooms.” Jose said.

Not five seconds in through the doorway, Aidan whipped out his cellphone. “Yo!” He called out. “What’s the Wi-Fi password here?”

Romero frowned. “I do apologize, sir. The antenna hasn’t been connected yet. We were expecting a serviceman to arrive earlier this morning, but he must’ve been held up.”

“Well, can’t you call them and ask what the matter is?” Judge Westbrook asked.

Romero shrugged his shoulders. “There’s no landline installed. We checked.”

Charlie pulled out his phone and checked for a signal. “He’s right...” he said hesitantly. “Can’t even get a single bar here.”

“Well, there goes my weekend.” Aidan huffed as he grabbed his backpack and headed upstairs.

“No Wi-Fi, no cellular station. How the heck do you communicate with the mainland? Carrier pigeons?” Senator McCreevy asked.

Romero explained. “The Narracott ferry service corresponds with us daily, sir. They arrive every morning to take orders if any, and every afternoon, they come back with groceries and/or mail. Which reminds me, I’d better go down to the shoreline and make sure everything’s alright with Fred. If you gentlemen will be so good as to wait in the lounge?”

“Um...there’s no need, really.” Westbrook insisted. “Unless we’re assigned rooms, we can manage ourselves. I’m sure you have much to do already.”

“_Gracias_, sir. I will be back presently.” Romero said, before exiting the front door.

“Top rate, the staff here.” Senator McCreevy commented. “I guess Mr. Owen spared no expense for this place. If it weren’t for the minor inconveniences, this would be the perfect little spot for a weekend getaway.”

“So, you’re a Senator?” Charlie asked. “I forgot to ask when we first boarded.

“Yes, son. I am.” McCreevy answered.

“And what’s your area of special concern?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“Foreign Affairs. On a few occasions, I’ll travel overseas to join Ambassadors in their attempts to strengthen our international relations.”

“Sounds noble.” Westbrook said.

“Thank you. What about you, Judge? What’s your district?”

“State of Arizona. I serve in the Superior Court.” Westbrook answered.

*****

Romero watched as Fred untied the boat from the mini-dock’s mooring line.

“Anything else?” Fred asked.

“Oh, one last thing. Almost forgot. I’ll need a new gas can for the generator. Don’t want the lights to run down before the weekend’s over.”

“Don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten. We can drop it off first thing tomorrow morning. Patrick will take care of getting it tonight after we close up for the night.”

“Thanks, _amigo_! See you in the morning!”

*****

“You want anything, Miss?” Mrs. Romero asked Liz. The latter could tell that the former’s English was somewhat broken.

“Um...yeah. I was just wondering if Mrs. Owen had said anything in regard to what she wanted to meet with me about?”

Mrs. Romero’s face fell. “Oh no, no Miss. We no see Mrs. Owen yet. My husband and I, we come only yesterday.”

“Oh goodness...” Liz said, surprised. “Such a big house. Do you guys need a hand with anything?”

“Oh no, no!” Mrs. Romero said quickly. “No no. We manage, Husband and me. We handle it! But thank you so much, Miss. Thank you! You real nice young lovely lady!”

“Aw! Thank you!” Liz blushed.

*****

Charlie changed into a casual suit for dinner after settling in. He walked over to the Lounge. On one side of it was a billiards table, with an open bar next to it, and a television monitor overhead. On the other side, was the fireplace. What caught Charlie’s attention almost immediately, was a picture frame that rested above the mantelpiece. Inside the frame was a nursery rhyme. Charlie read it carefully.

_THE TEN LITTLE SOLDIER BOYS_

_By Frank Green, 1869_

_Ten little soldier boys went out to dine; _

_One choked his little self and then there were Nine._

_Nine little soldiers sat up very late; _

_One overslept himself and then there were Eight._

_Eight little soldier boys traveling in Devon; _

_One said he’d stay there and then there were Seven._

_Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks; _

_One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six._

_Six little soldier boys playing with a hive;_

_ A bumble bee stung one, and then there were Five._

_Five little soldier boys studying for law; _

_One got in Chancery and then there were Four._

_Four little soldier boys sailing out to sea; _

_A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three._

_Three little soldier boys walking in the Zoo; _

_A big bear hugged one and then there were Two._

_Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun; _

_One got frizzled up and then there was One._

_One little soldier boy left all alone; _

_He went and hanged himself_

_And Then There Were None._

“Jeez...some nursery rhyme.” Charlie said to himself.

“I know, right?” Liz said, having heard him.

Charlie turned around and had only just managed to keep his jaw from dropping. Liz had come down from her room wearing a rather tight black cocktail dress, and open toed shoes. Her hair was tussled to one side, and she had red lipstick on.

“Wow...” Charlie mouthed.

Liz blushed. “You clean up pretty good yourself...Mister Lockard.” She said.

Charlie smiled. “Kinda like Prom.”

“Ha!” Liz laughed. “The only difference is you’ve noticed me this time.”

Charlie’s smile faded. “I thought it was the other way around?”

“Really?” Liz asked, bewildered. “I was kinda hoping you’d ask me.”

Groaning and covering his face in embarrassment, Charlie replied. “Wow...I didn’t ask because I didn’t think you would say yes.”

“Ugh! Is this seriously a repeat of that Jimmy Fallon/Nicole Kidman episode?!”

“I think so...” Charlie said, with a hint of disappointment.

“Hey, let’s not think about it. We’re catching up now. That’s what matters, right?”

“Of course.” Charlie smiled.

The moment was interrupted by the entrance of Aidan.

“So...” Aidan said. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some dinner around here?”


	2. TEN!

**CHAPTER ONE: Ten Little Soldier Boys Went Out to Dine; One Choked His Little Self And Then There Were Nine.**

The eight guests sat down in the dining room as Mr. and Mrs. Romero were serving dinner. It was enjoyable. And soon the nerves of a few hours ago were forgotten. To add to the atmosphere, the room was surrounded by atmosphere music coming from the walls. Romero had said that Mr. Owen had installed speakers inside the walls, and an iPod played on the little dock in the office to the side of the foyer.

“Did anyone notice the centerpiece on that table in the middle of the foyer?” Judge Westbrook mentioned.

“You mean those china dolls?” Miss Beauregard added.

“I saw them too.” The Senator said.

“Oh wait...are those the Ten Little Soldier Boys?” Liz asked.

“What?”

“The Ten Little Soldier Boys.” Liz continued. “You know, from the nursery rhyme on the mantelpiece.”

“Oh yeah I know what you’re talking about.” Charlie confirmed. “I guess it fits with the whole scheme of Soldier Island in the middle of Lake Soldier.”

“I personally found the rhyme to be quite inappropriate.” Miss Beauregard said with a disdain in her voice. “I mean what sort of example would that set for Mr. and Mrs. Owen’s daughter?”

The rest of the guests looked at her in puzzlement.

“Daughter?” Liz asked. “I didn’t know they had children.”

“Well they only mentioned a daughter. About 10 years old they had said. They wanted me to visit and discuss the potential of enrolling her in my school.”

“Oh, so you’re a principal?”

“Yes. Catholic School. I find it’s still very important that young girls should be kept virtuous and maintain their moral dignity.” Miss Beauregard said, with a side glance over in Liz’s direction.

Liz caught the glance and looked down at her plate to avoid the glare she was getting from the Principal, probably from the cocktail dress that she chose to wear.

*****

After dinner, the eight guests adjourned to the Lounge. Romero stepped behind the open bar to serve cocktails and drinks. On the bar there sat a few bowls of snacks, including pretzels, potato chips, and peanuts.

The Senator and the Judge were sitting by the fireplace discussing politics. Doctor Andrews and Miss Beauregard were in a debate about the ongoing conflict between faith and medicine. Blaine stood in the corner, observing everyone. Aidan decided to challenge Charlie to a game of billiards, with Liz to the side cheering for the latter.

The music was still being heard through the walls.

“I have to say. This really is a remarkable setup.” The Senator said. “It’s like an escape from reality.”

Dr. Andrews overheard, and decided to chime in. “Sometimes the best prescription in the world when dealing with stress, is a simulated escape from reality.”

“In other words, a vacation?” Blaine asked sarcastically.

The Doctor looked at Blaine. “Well, in some instances, it might not be vacation. Sometimes we have no choice but to resort to some time away from our normal lives. That’s what rehabilitation centers are for.”

“Well, looks like you win, Lockard.” Aidan conceded, before dropping his pool cue on the table and going over to the bar for a drink. “Hey Doc? Tell me more about the best way to escape reality...” he called Dr. Andrews over.

Liz walked over to Charlie. “Jeez...that was awkward.”

“I’ll say.”

And then, quite suddenly, the music stopped, and a loud voice interrupted everyone.

_ **“Ladies and Gentlemen! Silence! Please!”**_

Miss Beauregard clutched her chest from the shock. Dr. Andrews nearly spat out his drink from being startled.

**_“You are charged with the following indictments.”_**

Charlie looked around the room. The loud and harsh voice appeared to come from all sides of the Lounge.

Mrs. Romero entered the Lounge with a tray of coffee mugs, sweetener packs and cream packs. She stopped in the doorway as she too listened to the intrusive voice.

**_“Senator Gordon McCreevy; that you did deliberately send your mistress’s fiancé, and personal assistant, Harrison Richards, to his death!” _**

A couple of gasps emerged as all eyes fell on the Senator, who suddenly appeared to have aged five years in the face.

**_“Doctor Colin Andrews; that you did betray the humility of your profession and cause the death of Georgina Schmidt.”_**

Dr. Andrews responded by chugging down a glass of whiskey in aggressive disbelief.

**_“Detective Sergeant Lamar Blaine; that you compromised your oath to serve and to protect and in doing so, brought about the death of Kevin Lee.”_**

**_“Chief Justice Leonard Westbrook; that you are guilty of the murder of Aziz Al-Khaled, an innocent man executed on your sentence.” _**

** _“Principal Eleanor Beauregard; that you were responsible for the death of Brittany Thompson.” _**

** _“Philip Lockard...”_**

Liz looked in Charlie’s direction. Their eyes met. He motioned his finger for her to remain quiet as he listened to his ‘accusation’.

**_“...that you were guilty of the death of twenty-one men; homeless veterans of the United States Army.”_**

Liz covered her mouth in shock. Charlie silently nodded, confirming to her the truth in the statement.

But there was no time to question it. Because the next accusation sent Liz’s skin to turn white with fear, and her face to fall as if she would break right then and there.

**_“Elizabeth Callahan; that you did murder your sister’s boyfriend, C.J. Barclay; the father of your unborn nephew.” _**

Charlie’s eyes widened.

He had anticipated that this ‘Mr. Owen’ had discovered Lockard’s crime. For it was true; Lockard was responsible for twenty-one deaths. That’s the case that Charlie and his team were working hard on.

What he didn’t expect to hear, was that Liz, the girl he knew since high school, could actually be one of these people that now he understood all had something in common; murder. He wasn’t sure what to believe. But his eyes never left Liz’s, nor her eyes his.

**_“Aidan Marshall; that you were guilty of the murder of Gary and Linda Fowler.” _**

Aidan stopped playing with his vape pen and placed it on the bar, confused about his accusation.

**_“Jose and Isabel Romero; that you brought about the death of Marion Clark.”_**

Mrs. Romero gave a blood curdling scream as she dropped her tray and sank on her knees.

**_“Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defense?!”_ **

“Romero! Go find that thing and shut it off!” Dr. Andrews commanded as he rushed over to the fallen lady. “Aidan, get me a glass of water!”

“Already on it!” Aidan said, as he filled up a glass.

“What the hell is going on?!” The Senator demanded.

Romero returned with the iPod in his hand.

“Here it is. If I had any idea what was on it...” he began.

“Mr. Romero...” Westbrook interrupted. “Did you look at the tracks on the iPod before you placed it on the station?”

“I did, sir. The iPod was left on my desk, with a printed-out letter, providing instructions. I swear, sir. I had no idea what was on the iPod. It looked like ordinary music. Otherwise I wouldn’t have put it on.”

“Do you have the letter?” Westbrook asked.

Romero produced the letter from his breast pocket and handed it to Westbrook.

Charlie walked over and took the iPod from Romero and looked at the track that was currently on pause.

“He couldn’t have known, Judge.” He said. “The track’s called ‘Swan Song’.”

Aidan knelt down and offered the glass of water to Mrs. Romero who quickly gulped it down.” 

“I want to know what the hell this is all about?!” The Senator insisted.

Dr. Andrews looked up from tending to Mrs. Romero. “Some kind of sick and twisted joke, that’s what I think!”

“You think it’s a joke?” Westbrook asked.

“What else could it be?”

“I’ve yet to form an opinion.” Westbrook commented. “But first things first, we should ask how Mrs. Romero is faring.”

Romero knelt down behind his wife. “She’s alright. She’s just overreacting.” He placed his hand on Isabel’s shoulder, pressing hard on it. “Isabel! Hey! Snap out of it!” He whispered harshly.

Isabel crossed herself. “_Dios Mio! _The Almighty has cast down his judgement on us!”

“Isabel! Calm down!” Romero insisted.

Dr. Andrews helped Mrs. Romero up. “I think the best thing to do is for you to go upstairs and lie down. Romero give me a hand.”

While Romero and the Doctor helped Mrs. Romero up and towards their room, Westbrook examined the letter closely.

“It’s signed by U.N. Owen...” he observed. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have to be honest. I have never met this ‘Owen’ character before. What kind of person is he like?”

The rest of the party remained silent. No one could give a direct answer. Aidan was the first to speak. “Seriously? No one knows?”

“Okay, what about you, Mr. YouTuber?” Blaine challenged.

“Hey, don’t look at me, bro. My buddy reached out to me on Facebook. He told me he was gonna meet me here...which is weird because I thought he was spending the week in Cancun.”

*****

Dr. Andrews took out a bottle of melatonin pills from his medical kit and picked up the glass of water from the nightstand.

“This will help her relax tonight. If she doesn’t sleep, repeat the dose in two hours.” the Doctor said.

“_Gracias, Senor._” Mrs. Romero said as she took the pills and gulped it down with the water.

Closing up his bag, Dr. Andrews turned to Romero. “I’ll leave you a couple of minutes to make sure your wife’s settled in. When you’re done, if you could come back down to the Lounge. There might be answers to questions that only you can provide us with.”

“Yes, sir.” Romero said.

As soon as the Doctor left, Mrs. Romero sat up.

“You bastard!” She spat. “We never should’ve come here!”

“How could I have known?! The agency pointed us here...” the husband argued.

“You know what I mean!” Mrs. Romero insisted.

She was promptly met with her husband’s back hand across her face.

“Shut your mouth, _puta_! I know what I’m doing!” Romero barked.

*****

Doctor Andrews returned to the Lounge. Everyone was scattered all over the room, still unnerved by the phenomenon that has occurred.

Every so often, Charlie would glance at Liz, who was quite suddenly, no longer the cheerful and sweet woman that he had met before at the docks. Instead, she had this somber look on her face. He couldn’t tell if there was some mistake. He wished there was, but wasn’t sure, because otherwise, Liz would’ve been shocked and outraged by the accusation, rather than knowledgeable.

“Oh, Doctor.” The Judge began. “We were all discussing how we came to receive our invitations to this island. Would you care to explain how you were contacted?”

Doctor Andrews shrugged his shoulders. “Well I wasn’t going to say anything before. But...one of my colleagues reached out to me earlier this week. He was contacted by Mr. Owen, who had requested a physician. Owen was worried about his wife’s health. But she refused to see a doctor, so Mr. Owen had requested that someone come here to pose as a guest and observe Mrs. Owen’s symptoms.”

The Judge stroked his chin. “You said Mr. Owen contacted your colleague, and yet _you _arrived on this island.”

“Correct. My colleague had mentioned that he was unable to make the trip due to a personal emergency, so he asked me if I could go in his place.”

“Was anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well...my colleague mentioned that he had to make a new email address. He was kind of vague about it.”

“I see.” The Judge said, before picking up everyone else’s letters.

The Doctor approached the bar. Aidan offered him a glass of whiskey. The Doctor took it. “Under the circumstances...” he said, before gulping the drink down.

Romero entered the room. “She will be alright.” He said referring to his wife.  
“Sleeping peacefully, she is.”

The Judge cleared his throat. “I’ll shorthand our information: As Mr. Marshall had explained, he had received an email from his friend, Baxter Berkeley, inviting Marshall to come spend the weekend here, as a guest of Baxter’s friends, the Owens. The same sort of invitation applied to me, and to the Senator. But all of them do coincide with what you had just mentioned; each of our friends mention changing emails.

“Meanwhile, the Romero couple were assigned here through an employment agency. And according to the agency, Mr. Owen had picked them out specifically.

“Miss Callahan, the online beauty guru, received an email from a real estate firm, asking her to visit the island, and to advertise the location on her social media accounts. I believe her online presence was to help gain popularity for the island as a tourist spot?”

Liz nodded; her eyes cast downward.

The Judge continued.

“This one letter to...Mr. Lockard is the only one that is directly from Mr. Owen himself. And...if I may add, it’s very...threatening. What have you to say about that, Mr. Lockard?”

Charlie took a deep breath and stood up from his chair.

“Well, if I’m gonna be honest...” he paused, picking his words carefully. “I’m just as baffled by the matter of the invitation as you are. Let’s just say...I came here to see what exactly Mr. Owen knew about me.”

Liz looked up at him.

“What about you, Mr. Blaine?” The Judge asked, turning to Blaine. “You’re the only one here who hasn’t provided us with an explanation.”

Everyone turned their attention to Blaine, who suddenly tensed up.

“Well, shit. Don’t see much of a point in pretending. The Doc was upfront. I guess I will be too. I was hired.”

“Hired in what sense?” Charlie asked.

“Owen hired me. He said he had reason to believe that a bunch of party-goers were going to trash this place before he and his wife arrived.”

“So, you’re a cop?”

“Used to be. I run a detective agency now.”

The Judge leaned back in his chair. “Interesting. Have you ever met Mr. Owen before?”

“Nah, everything was over the phone.”

“I figured as much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it seems pretty clear that we all have a couple of things in common. We were all enticed to this island by an anonymous person, with some form of bait; and he went through a lot of trouble to find out sensitive information about each of us.”

“Bullshit!” Blaine barked.

“It’s messed up!” Liz cried.

“Absolute nonsense!” Miss Beauregard scoffed.

“I’ve never even met a ‘Gary and Linda Fowler.” Aidan said.

The Senator wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s absolute slander. Harrison Richards was one of the best of my staff members. His death was tragic, unthinkable, and unfortunate. It was anything _but _deliberate! And his fiancée and I...any interactions we shared were purely professional. I swear...I never should’ve run for the Senate. You can’t even sneeze without some attention-seeking degenerate making a simple accusation against you. One pointed finger, and your career is in jeopardy.”

“What about Richards?” Westbrook asked. “How exactly did he die?”

The Senator took a deep breath. “I had made plans to take an overseas trip to Afghanistan. It was part of a diplomatic effort to strengthen ties between the two nations. On my way to the airport, I had gotten into an accident. Richards went ahead of me; to make sure that everything was prepared when I arrived. But the embassy he went to was almost immediately attacked...by insurgents. He didn’t make it. There’s not a day that goes by where I regret thinking that we could strengthen our foreign ties. There are just some countries that we never should’ve been involved with in the first place. You’d think after Benghazi...” he stopped, having appeared to lose his train of thought.

The room fell silent.

The Doctor cleared his throat. “Georgina Schmidt...I was her primary physician. But she had a cardiac arrest on the day that I was out of town. And I was the only one she had any faith in, when it came to the medical profession. She...wouldn’t see anyone else. My heart goes out to her family...”

“Aziz Al-Khaled...” Westbrook began. “He was responsible for the mass shooting in Phoenix Arizona nine years ago.”

Aidan scoffed. “Which one?”

Westbrook winced. “He openly praised Allah as he opened fire. And his apartment just screamed evidence of being in support of ISIS. Everything pointed to his guilt. I was convinced of it. I’ve presided over hundreds of cases wherein I knew the perpetrator to be guilty. I was unmistakably certain of my conviction. Some of the jurors had wanted an acquittal. They threatened to cry slander over my decision, calling me Islamophobic. My constitution was concrete, and I sentenced him to death via the electric chair. As far as I am concerned, I have ended the life of a dangerous criminal. If I gave in to the jury’s sympathy, it was only a matter of time before he struck again. Perhaps it was the controversy of the perpetrator being Muslim that brings me here to this island.”

Romero cleared his throat. “I did mention that I had no idea what was on that iPod, right?”

“Yes.” Westbrook answered.

“What it said about me and my wife, is not true, sir. At all!”

“How exactly are you connected with the person in question?” Charlie asked.

“Mrs. Clark? She was an elderly woman, sir. We were her next-door neighbors in the same apartment complex. She was not well. She was getting to the age where it were near impossible to transport her to the hospital, so they provided her with a specialized bed, supplied with a mechanical ventilator. My wife and I...trying to be good neighbors, did our best to take care of her. She had no family to speak of. So, whenever we could, we would check on her.”

“What happened?”

“During a thunderstorm...the power for the whole building went out. That included the power that supplied the ventilator. It was unfortunate. We called for an ambulance but by the time they got to the apartment it was too late.”

Dr. Andrews blinked once. He was trying to process what was being said. Looking at his glass of whiskey, he placed it down on the bar.

Liz rubbed her forehead. “This whole thing is making me sick to my stomach...” she muttered.

Charlie got up from his chair. “Can I get you something?”

“I don’t know. I just want to get off this island...”

“Now why should she get to leave?” Miss Beauregard challenged. “She knows what they’ve done. Why doesn’t she explain herself?”

“And what about _your _accusation, Miss Beauregard?” Charlie snapped.

Eleanor’s face stiffened. She remained silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen...” Westbrook began. “There’s no point in us bickering over this whole affair. Senator McCreevy, Doctor Andrews, myself and Romero have explained the truth behind our accusations. There’s no reason why the rest of us should not be in similar predicaments. However, it doesn’t explain the purpose of our being invited here to this island. Whoever this Owen character is...I wouldn’t trust him an inch. He may not be mentally stable. My suggestion, is that we leave as soon as Narracott arrives first thing in the morning.”

Aidan picked up his vape pen. His face lit up as he suddenly remembered something.

“Wait...” he began. “What were the names of those people I was accused of killing?”

“Gary and Linda Fowler.” Blaine answered.

“Oh...” Aidan said slowly. “You know what? They must’ve been these couple of teenagers...”

“What teenagers?” The Judge asked.

“Now first of all, it wasn’t my fault! That city didn’t specify which streets were gonna have protesters crossing over. Next thing I know, these two teenagers with picket signs just jump in front of my car, and before you can say ‘hashtag impeach Trump’, my license is suspended. It sucked!”

“Oh Jesus Christ...” Dr. Andrews groaned. “Of course, you would be driving. Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey! I said it was an accident.” Aidan said.

Charlie studied him, before speaking up. “You know, you seem more upset over having to lose your license versus the deaths of those teenagers.”

“Oh, it’s not like I killed anyone important. It was a Conservative Protest. They as good as killed themselves the moment they voted Republican.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Dr. Andrews exclaimed. “You killed two innocent people! And you feel no fucking remorse for that?!”

“Well...technically three if you think about it. Their mother was pretty upset about it.”

“Oh my god.” Liz breathed in disgust.

“You’re a damn menace to society, young man!” The Senator scolded. “It’s people like you that put the Democratic Party to shame!”

Aidan groaned as he switched his vape pen on.

“Oh please! You should be thanking me. It serves them right for not making way for the Democrats to take over the government. And it’s just as well that Conservatives are sloppy in their protests anyway. It could’ve happened to anyone. I guarantee that those people would still be alive if Trump wasn’t elected. The world belongs to the Left!”

And with that, he took a big ingest from his vape pen.

Perhaps it was too strong of an inhale. For almost immediately, he spat out the smoke that evolved from his mouth, as he clutched his throat, and gasped for air. And before Dr. Andrews could even reach him, Aidan collapsed to the floor, convulsing as his face turned purple.

*****

It happened so fast, no one knew what to do.

Dr. Andrews frantically searched for a pulse. “Jesus Christ...he’s dead!” He exclaimed.

Everyone was speechless.

“What happened?!” The Senator demanded. “Did he just...choke out of nowhere on that garbage?”

The Doctor grabbed the vape pen that was clutched in Aidan’s other hand and examined it closely.

“I’m not saying that vaping is exactly healthy, but it’s sure as hell isn’t instantly lethal.”

“Are you sure? He did ingest it pretty quickly.” Westbrook asked.

“To be honest, I don’t know. These vaping health concerns have only been addressed very recently. I can’t say for certain right now.”

The rest of the room fell silent.

*****

Charlie, Blaine, and Dr. Andrews all carried Aidan’s body up to his room and covered him up with a bedsheet. The rest of the guests adjourned to their rooms, all too shocked to discuss the events of this evening.

Dr. Andrews took one more look at Aidan’s neck.

“His neck’s pretty swollen.”

“The chemicals used in the vape didn’t bother him before.” Blaine asked.

“This isn’t something that should be consumed in excess. For all we know, he could’ve OD’d on it; too much ingest in one setting.”

“Maybe...” Charlie said hesitantly.

After placing the body in the room, the three left and closed the door behind them. Dr. Andrews and Blaine returned to their respective rooms.

Charlie was unable to even think about sleep. His mind was racing. He still couldn’t understand how ‘Mr. Owen’ could’ve known anything about any of these people, or their supposed crimes. More importantly, he was still wishing deep down that there was some sort of a misunderstanding for the crime involving Liz.

He decided to return to the Lounge. Descending down the stairs, something caught his attention.

On the center table in the foyer, where the ten little china solider dolls were placed, one of them was knocked over onto the floor, shattered in a few pieces.

As he went over to pick up the broken pieces to put them back on the table, he heard sniffling coming from the Lounge. Carefully, he approached.

Liz was silently crying recently. Her head was leaning against the glass window while she sat in a fetal position in her chair. When she saw Charlie approach, she wiped her eyes of her tears. Her mascara was clearly ruined. It became apparent to Charlie that she never left the Lounge since what happened.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She said, her voice hoarse.

Charlie held up his hands in defense. “I don’t want to ask.” He replied. “I just...whatever happened, I’m not gonna think any differently of you.”

“You’re kidding me, right? As soon as the boat comes tomorrow, the police will be involved, and the cases will be re-opened. My nightmare’s been revived.”

Charlie walked over, and took the chair facing her. “Liz, you know me. You know what I do for a living. You know why I’m here. I promise you; I will do all I can to make sure your case is left alone.”

“I’m not talking about you, Char- er...Phil. I’m talking about the others. You’ve seen how questioning the Judge was about everyone. He might as well have been holding trial right here.”

“I’m not giving up, Liz. I’m gonna get you through this.” Charlie insisted.

Liz looked at her friend. After a couple of sniffles, she offered a light smile.

“I said on the boat it was great to see you.”

Charlie nodded in agreement.

“Now I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Ahem.” a voice coughed.

Charlie and Liz shot up from their seats. They looked up to see Lamar Blaine in the doorway.

“Oh...sorry, I uh...I thought you went to bed. Couldn’t sleep either?” Charlie asked.

“You’d have to be really fucked in the head if you’re able to sleep after the night we all had.” Blaine responded. Keeping his eyes on Charlie and Liz, he walked over to the bar, where Aidan’s vape pen remained.

“So, what was up with the Doc earlier?” He asked.

Charlie walked over to the bar alongside Blaine. “I wish I knew. He seemed convinced that Marshall just up and died but couldn’t give out an official reason why.”

“Yeah but in fairness, he did have a few tonight.”

“Could’ve been impaired judgement, then.”

“Maybe.” Blaine said, offering the pen to Charlie, who took it and examined it closely.

“Wait...” he said. “There’s...there’s dust on this pen. Powdered dust.”

Blaine took the pen back, and ran his finger along the mouthpiece, and sniffed it.

“Hm...” he began. “No question of sketchy chemicals. My guess is peanuts.”

“Peanuts?” Liz questioned, walking over to the bar beside the other two. “There was a bowl here on the bar.”

Charlie nodded. “And...Marshall’s neck looked pretty swollen.”

“So...?” Blaine prompted.

“He must’ve suffered from a peanut allergy.” Charlie concluded.

“But if that were the case, why be so close to the bowl of peanuts? And he was pretty obnoxious, I’m surprised he didn’t complain about them once he saw them.”

“Maybe he didn’t notice them? Remember, he didn’t think much about those kids he killed.” Charlie suggested.

“Don’t be so sure.” Blaine said, before picking up the bowl. “I had a couple of these before dinner tonight. They were freshly put in. Now look at them.”

Charlie and Liz examined the bowl. Sure enough, plenty of the remaining peanuts were crushed into hundreds of crumbs.

“And the way the dust was sticking on the mouth pen after his consumption...suppose he jabbed the pen into the bowl, gathering up enough dust to remain, especially if he put it in his mouth beforehand.” Charlie added.

“But why?” Liz asked. “Why would he jab his own vape pen into a bowl of a food known to be a lethal allergen? Do you think...?”

“Suicide?” Blaine finished Liz’s thought. “He didn’t seem the type. What are our other options?”

“Somehow I don’t want to know.” Charlie shivered.


	3. NINE!

**CHAPTER TWO: Nine Little Soldier Boys Sat Up Very Late; One Overslept Himself, And Then There Were Eight.**

If there was a sun to rise the next morning, one certainly couldn’t tell. The fog was so thick that morning, the mainland couldn’t be seen at all.

Charlie had gotten up early this morning, and the first thing that was on his mind once he showered, shaved, and gotten dressed, was to signal to the mainland, where hopefully, Morley would be able to pick up his signals.

So, he walked over to the spot that Hayward mentioned, and used his high-beam flashlight to signal an SOS. He tried multiple times but received no reply.

After several minutes, he ditched any effort to make communications. At any rate, the boat would be here soon. And then he can make his report to Legge. Of course, now that a death had occurred, finding out who Mr. Owen was and why he knew what he knew, would be the last thing on the NYPD’s mind.

Charlie entered the foyer. At the landing of the stairs, he could see a glimpse of Dr. Andrews in his bathrobe, quickly following a frantic Romero down the stairs, and into the latter’s bedroom. Charlie thought the moment odd but put it behind him as he passed by the front desk and approached the stairs, when he stopped in his tracks. Something felt off. He turned around, and he looked at the centerpiece on the table.

“Morning, Mr. Lockard.” Judge Westbrook addressed Charlie as he descended the stairs. Noticing that Charlie didn’t respond, he studied the man with curiosity. “Are you alright?” He asked.

He was shortly followed by the Senator, Miss Beauregard, Blaine and Elizabeth.

“Okay...this is weird.” Charlie muttered.

“Well, to be honest, Mr. Lockard, that would be the understatement of the year.”

“These china figures.” Charlie said, pointing to the centerpiece. “There were ten here last night, correct?”

“Well of course. We discussed it last night at dinner.” Westbrook answered.

“Okay...well, last night I couldn’t sleep. So, I went down to the Lounge to get myself a drink. On my way, I found one of these shattered on the floor. Maybe one of us bumped into it while we were moving Marshall’s body?”

“Perhaps...” Westbrook said, stroking his chin. “Maybe Romero saw the broken figure and removed it from the table while he was cleaning up. Is that what’s unusual?”

“In itself? No. But...look at how many there are now.” Charlie insisted.

Liz was the one who approached.

“There’s...eight.”

“Exactly. That’s how many _I _counted.”

“Well?” Miss Beauregard asked, as if she wasn’t seeing the point Charlie was making. “What of it? Out of all the things that have occurred on this island, a couple of broken china dolls should be the least of Mr. Owen’s concerns.”

“Yeah, it ain’t _our _problem.” Blaine added. “Now what’s the word on breakfast?”

Dr. Andrews re-entered the foyer from Romero’s bedroom. He looked grim.

“Uh...ladies and gentlemen...I’m afraid that we’ll have to fend for ourselves this morning for breakfast.”

Miss Beauregard grunted. “What’s wrong with the woman?! Sleeping the day away?!”

“Not necessarily...” Dr. Andrews said. “She’s dead.”

The room fell silent.

“How?!” Liz asked.

“Must’ve been in her sleep. I’d say six hours ago, at best.”

“She did have a huge meltdown last night. Think it was heart failure?” Charlie suggested.

“Heart failed to beat, that’s for sure. But I can’t say for certain what caused it to fail.” Dr. Andrews said, frustrated.

“Conscience.” Miss Beauregard said, with a smirk on her face.

“Excuse me?!” Charlie asked, bewildered.

“You said it yourself. She broke down last night from her guilt. An innocent woman would’ve pleaded ignorance of the crime she was accused of. Her behavior last night said it all.”

Blaine never took his eyes off of the Doctor. Finally, he said. “What exactly did you give her last night, Doc?”

“Melatonin. And no, there was nothing in the capsules that could’ve agitated the heart, if that’s the direction you’re going. It was a muscle-relaxer. It was supposed to help her calm down.”

“The answer is smacking you in the face!” Miss Beauregard insisted. “It is nothing more than the cleansing work of the Lord.”

“Okay don’t you think that’s going too far?” Liz challenged.

“Sins will always find their sinners. Plain and simple.”

“Wait...what about her husband?” Blaine suggested.

“What about him?” Charlie asked.

“You all saw how he was hunched over her last night. He wasn’t exactly comforting her when she broke down...” Blaine said.

Charlie cleared his throat. Blaine turned around to see Romero standing in the doorway of his room.

“Uh...ladies and gentlemen...I apologize for the inconvenience...”

“No, don’t worry about it.” Liz offered.

“We’re sorry about what happened.” The Senator said softly. Up until now he was silent.

“_Gracias_, sir. I’ll see what can be done about an early lunch.” Romero said.

“Lunch?” Blaine asked, confused. “Why would we be here for lunch? We’re leaving as soon as the boat comes!”

“I am sorry, sir. But the boat isn’t coming...not in this weather.” Romero said, with a somber expression.

“What?” Westbrook asked. “How do you know?”

“They’re supposed to arrive by eight o’clock in the morning. It’s now 9:40. If they’re not coming now, it’s obviously because of the weather. There was a report about a thunderstorm approaching at some point today.”

“So...nobody’s coming for us?” Senator McCreevy asked.

Everyone looked in his direction. They picked up on the way he asked that question. In a way, it sounded...hopeful.

“Maybe they will come as soon as the weather clears. I honestly cannot say when that will be.” Romero suggested. “Unless there is anything else, I’ll see what I can prepare for lunch. Is 11 o’clock reasonable for everyone?”

Liz stepped forward. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Romero. I can fix something up. You have enough on your plate.”

“_Gracias_, Miss Callahan. You are too kind.” Romero said, as he returned to the back room.

Liz turned to the others. “Does anyone object to scrambled eggs and toast?” She asked.

“That might be all I can eat, depending on what’s in the kitchen, Miss Callahan.” Miss Beauregard said.

Liz followed Romero to ask him where the kitchen was.

Blaine spoke up next. “Are you guys serious?! He seemed completely unfazed by his own wife’s death! And you’re telling me he didn’t do it?!”

“I don’t believe so...” The Senator said softly. “I don’t think he would be _that _cruel. Some people will do a lot for the ones they love...”

Everyone else looked in confusion as the Senator walked out the front door.

“Well...” Miss Beauregard sighed. “I supposed I’ll help Miss Callahan with the breakfast. It’s what any good Christian will do.” She said, before following where Liz went just now.

*****

After Westbrook and Blaine excused themselves to return to their rooms, Dr. Andrews asked Charlie to meet him outside by the terrace.

“What’s on your mind?” The latter asked.

“I need a second man’s opinion.” The Doctor admitted.

“On...?” Charlie prodded.

“On the whole situation. Like what do you think about Blaine’s theory from earlier?”

“You mean with what he said about Romero being paranoid about his wife, and possibly killing her?”

Dr. Andrews nodded. “Early this morning, Romero pounded on my door. He asked me to come check on his wife. He said something about her didn’t seem right, so he asked me to take a look. He looked frantic as hell, but after what Blaine said, it could’ve been a front. What do you think?”

Charlie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “If the event occurred alone? Possibly. But there are other things to consider.”

“I know. That’s why I’m baffled by it all.”

“But let’s take one thing at a time and just suppose that he did kill his wife. The only reason that he would have to do that, is if there was some truth to the allegation made against the two of them.”

“Yeah...about that.” Dr. Andrews began. “That story that Romero gave about the ventilator’s power shutting off. It’s complete bullshit.”

“How so?”

“When hospital equipment is brought into a place of residency, such as a mechanical ventilator, the team that delivers it assembles and activates it. Each machinery comes equipped with a fail-safe power supply, in the event of such an outage that Romero had described. A backup battery let’s just say. It would’ve had to have been physically switched off in order for the machine to stop working on such a night.”

“What did Romero tell the police?”

“He said that they’ve been experiencing electrical failures during the thunderstorm and thought it best to take the backup battery out to see if it had juice, and sure enough as soon as they did, lightning strikes, and bye-bye Mrs. Clark.”

“Jesus...” Charlie winced. “And the police believed them?”

“Well...from what Romero told me about where they lived, the police had no choice _but _to believe them; they lived in a sanctuary city.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “You mean...?”

“Yup. Illegal. Both of them.” Dr. Andrews sighed.

And then, quite suddenly, it became clear to Charlie.

“I’m starting to see the pattern here.” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“The whole scheme of this island. Whoever this _Mr. Owen_ is, he gathered us all here because we all had one thing in common. Crimes that couldn’t be brought home to their perpetrators. Exhibit A: Mr. and Mrs. Romero. Exhibit B: The Senator. And Exhibit C: Marshall and those kids he ran over.”

“The Senator? You really think he killed that Richards guy?” Dr. Andrews asked, curious.

“I’ve seen plenty of crooked politicians. Enough to recognize a guilty one when I see them. Senator McCreevy’s facial expressions gave himself away. Marshall was obnoxiously Liberal. If he was Conservative and he ran over a couple of Democratic protesters, he would’ve been burnt at the stake. Therefore, he got away with his crime just by playing the ‘injustice’ card.”

“And the Judge?” Doctor Andrews questioned.

“He may have been biased. The man he ‘killed’ was Muslim. It could’ve been a hate crime, but whether or not it was, Westbrook committed it behind the safety of his gavel and his authority to pass out the death sentence. He did it in the comfort of his own courtroom.”

Dr. Andrews didn’t say anything about his own crime. So, he decided to steer away from it by driving back to his original point. “What about Mrs. Romero? Do you believe Blaine’s theory about her husband killing her?”

Charlie crossed his arms after a sigh. “I could...if it wasn’t for Marshall’s death. By the way, last night, Blaine and I discovered what could’ve been the cause of his death. His vape pen had the residue of peanuts on the mouthpiece.”

“Peanut allergy?”

“Our initial thought was that it was placed too closely to that bowl of peanuts on the bar. But the pen was jabbed into the bowl, crushing enough peanuts to gather the powdered dust.”

“Deliberately? You mean...?”

“I sincerely doubt that he committed suicide. He was completely unmoved by those deaths he caused, especially since they shared political beliefs that clashed with his. He had no sense of responsibility.”

“But...but that means...” Doctor Andrews began.

“That means...that either Aidan Marshall had the most rapid change of heart in history and killed himself out of guilt. Or...he was _murdered_.” Charlie concluded.

*****

“And Mrs. Romero?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“Aidan’s supposed suicide would be more believable if it wasn’t for her death. Her heart problems, or her husband’s foul play would be more believable if Aidan didn’t die. So, in a nutshell, both circumstances cancel each other out. What we need is a link between the two...”

Charlie stopped short.

“What?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“Follow me!” Charlie said, before rushing back into the house.

Dr. Andrews followed him back into the lounge, where Charlie was staring straight at the _Ten Little Soldiers _poem.

“Holy shit.” Charlie muttered. “Here’s our link. ‘_Ten little soldier boys went out to dine; one choked his little self, and then there were nine._’. Aidan pretty much choked himself. Then _‘Nine little soldiers sat up very late; one overslept himself and then there were eight’_! Mrs. Romero...technically...overslept herself. And those china figures out in the foyer. There’s eight of them now. Just like there’s eight of us...”

“Jesus Christ...” Dr. Andrews muttered under his breath. “So...Mr. Owen invited us here...”

“...to kill us all!” Charlie finished for the Doctor.

“But...but there was no one else on this island!” Dr. Andrews insisted. “Romero told us that the Owens had yet to arrive.”

“As far as Romero knows, Doc. But for all we know, either he’s lying, or Owen _is _here, and Romero doesn’t know it. But there’s one thing that Owen _doesn’t _know, and that’s the fact that this island has only the one house. And the island itself isn’t that wide. And the mainland’s too far away for him to swim away without us not seeing him.”

“There’s only one way to know for sure...” Dr. Andrews concluded, guessing what Charlie was onto.

“What do you think? We get Blaine to help us in our search?”

“Who else? The women are taking care of breakfast. The Senator’s acting weird. Until we get the truth, Romero is questionable. And the Judge isn’t exactly agile enough to scout the island.”

“Okay. Then we search for Mr. Owen. As long as he’s on the move, we’re all fucked.” Charlie decided.

*****

Elizabeth was finishing up with the eggs while Miss Beauregard gathered seven plates. While she was cooking, Liz kept an eye on the elderly woman. She couldn’t get what Miss Beauregard had said earlier. It was the attitude she conveyed that unnerved her.

“I hope these eggs are fresh. I’d have to be very careful with what I consume, you know.” The Principal said.

“Oh, you seem to be looking healthy already, Miss Beauregard.” Liz said, trying to soften the mood.

“You’re too kind, dear. But I must be careful all the same. I wasn’t going to say anything in front of the others, but…I’m rather…diabetic.” Miss Beauregard admitted.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Liz said.

“Quite alright.”

Liz returned to scraping up the eggs from the pan and scrambling them up nice and good. Unable to help her curiosity, she decided to ask what was on her mind.

“Um...Miss Beauregard?” She asked.

“Yes, dear?”

“I was...I was just thinking. That thing you said earlier. About Mr. and Mrs. Romero. Do you...really believe that they did it?”

“You mean that they killed that poor old lady? Absolutely. As I said, an innocent couple wouldn’t have reacted the way that they did.”

“I mean...she was scared of her own shadow. She could’ve screamed at the drop of a hat.”

“An innocent woman has nothing to fear from her actions. Especially if they are justified. I can’t see what possible excuse there would’ve been for that couple to murder their neighbor.”

“But if that were the case...what about the others?”

“Well I can assure you that that young man with the disgusting habit got what he deserved. There are plenty of incidents where a simple car accident can result in the deaths of others. But it was this man’s complete disregard for humanity, his amoral nature, that made him a danger to society. Therefore, God has deemed him unfit to live.”

“And the others?”

“I don’t know about yourself, Miss Callahan. Nor Mr. Lockard, nor Mr. Blaine. But the cases of Dr. Andrews and the Senator are no doubt unfortunate circumstances. The Judge, however, was simply performing his God-given duty. As was I.”

Liz turned off the stove and turned her attention to the Principal.

“Your duty resulted in the death of someone, Miss Beauregard?”

“Certainly not!” The elderly woman scoffed.

“But what about the accusation?” Liz insisted.

“Tut tut. That was just an ugly rumor spread by Miss Thompson’s upset parents. Brittany Thompson. She was a student at my school. She was a disruptive influence. Not only that, but she had no standards. She became..._loose_. And worst of all, she ‘experimented’ with other schoolgirls. Behaving in the most disgusting manner. No good comes of it. Naturally, I had her expelled.”

Liz’s eyes widened.

“Wait...you expelled her because...she was gay?!”

“There’s no place in heaven for sinners. I acted within the dictates of my conscience.”

Liz’s eyes never left Miss Beauregard as the latter gathered the plates and dispensed the cooked breakfasts on them.

“But what happened to Brittany?!” Liz automatically asked.

“Plain and simple. She contributed to her many sins by jumping off a bridge. Whoever this ‘Mr. Owen’ is, he’s obviously ‘tolerant’ of such an inferior being. He’s wrong in his judgement though. I have nothing to reproach myself with.”

And with that, the Principal collected the plates and exited the kitchen. Liz wanted nothing more than to remain in the kitchen, unwilling to even set foot in the same room as this horrible old woman.


	4. EIGHT!

**CHAPTER THREE: Eight Little Soldier Boys Traveling in Devon; One Said He’d Stay There, And Then There Were Seven.**

While the women were busy in the kitchen, Charlie and the Doctor had no trouble in recruiting Blaine to help out with the search. They started off with searching the inside of the house, for the invisible Mr. Owen. The three of them searched the house from top to bottom. The only people in their respective rooms were the bodies of Aidan and Mrs. Romero. Miss Beauregard and Liz were in the dining room, setting the table for brunch. Judge Westbrook was sitting out on the terrace. Senator McCreevy was sitting on a large rock along the shoreline, staring out into the horizon. Other than that, there was no ninth individual to be seen.

All the while that they were searching the island, the clouds overheard grew darker by the minute. Although the fog had lifted somewhat, the skies looked like they were about to open up to a torrential downpour at the blow of a whistle. It was clear to everyone on this island that the chances of the boat arriving today would be slim. The best they could do is wait until later in the evening. But for now, there was a dangerous madman on the loose.

Once the outside of the island was searched, the three determined men arrived over by the pool.

“Well?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“Nothing.” Charlie sighed in disappointment. “Not even a hiding place.”

“And there’s no way that this Owen guy could’ve just made his escape by swimming to the mainland overnight?”

“I doubt it.” Dr. Andrews commented. “I don’t think any of us had a goodnight’s sleep. We could’ve heard him treading the water.”

“And there’s no boat here that he could’ve used?” Blaine asked.

“No signs of one ever being here. Not even a kayak.” Dr. Andrews said.

“If there was a kayak here, I’m pretty sure one of us would’ve braved the lake to alert the ferry to our situation.” Charlie added.

“Fair enough.” Blaine responded.

“You’re all wasting time.” A voice called out behind them.

The sudden intrusion startled them all. For Charlie, his active instinct immediately raised a red flag. He turned around quickly, his hand reaching into the inside of his jacket.

They all looked to see that it was the Senator.

“I hardly see why you’re all even trying. You’re only prolonging the inevitable.” The gray-haired politician said.

“What’s the inevitable?” Blaine asked, curiously.

“The end, of course. It’s fast approaching us. You might not sense it yet, but I do. And what’s more, I find it to be so relieving to know. Don’t worry. You’ll be relieved too.”

And with that, the Senator walked down the rocky path back to where he originally was sitting.

Initially, the Doctor would’ve commented on the strange way the Senator was behaving, but Blaine was the first to break the silence.

“Why do you have a gun, Lockard?!” Blaine demanded.

Charlie froze.

His cover was on the line. If it was blown now, his credibility would be in serious jeopardy. After swallowing once, he tried his best to keep his cover.

“First of all,...I thought that was Mr. Owen behind us.” Charlie began.

“That’s beside the point.” Blaine interrupted. “I wanna know why you have a gun.”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie reached into his back pocket, and produced a piece of paper; a gun permit with Philip Lockard’s name forged onto it for the mission. “Step off your high horse, Blaine. I have a license to carry.” He said, showing the permit to the other two.

“Again, that’s not an answer. I want to know why you have a gun.”

The Doctor cleared his throat. “What about you, Blaine? When I knocked on your door, you left it open, and I saw you.”

Charlie looked at Blaine in disbelief.

“And you slid _your _gun into your jacket too.”

“I have a valid reason to carry, Doc.” Blaine fired back. “I’m a cop. What’s _his_ excuse?!”

“Okay you want my excuse?! Here it is.” Charlie said, getting into character. “I have a lot of enemies...if that wasn’t already clear from the accusations last night. And if you really wanna know, I’ve had more than one attempt made on my life.” He said.

The ironic thing was, he wasn’t completely lying. Speaking as a cop that had engaged in violent standoffs in New York City, he wasn’t really exaggerating.

“Since I have a lot of enemies, I decided I needed to protect myself. And when I got that threatening letter from ‘Mr. Owen’, I decided I would stop trying to run, and try to face this creep head on. I didn’t know that there would be nine other people coming to this island. That’s why I didn’t say anything!”

“And now?” Blaine prodded.

“Now things are different. Now we’re all in the same boat.”

“Are you sure?” Doctor Andrews asked with doubt. “What if we overreacted? We got ourselves paranoid over one possible theory?”

Charlie sighed. “Seriously, Doc? Two deaths in a span of 12 hours is not an ‘overreaction’.”

Dr. Andrews exhaled an exasperated sigh. “You’re right. I’m not a psychiatrist, but I can tell that the YouTuber couldn’t possibly have committed suicide.”

“And Mrs. Romero?” Blaine added. When the Doctor remained silent, Blaine went on. “Are you sure you didn’t give her an overdose?”

“I already told you. The amount I gave her couldn’t have been lethal to anyone.” The Doctor explained. “And besides, if I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have given it to her.”

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time you fucked up, if there’s any truth to that allegation.” Blaine insisted.

“And what about _your _accusation, Blaine?!” Charlie challenged back. “A little bit of police brutality?”

Blaine got close to Charlie’s face. “You better watch yourself, you little shit!”

“Or what?” Charlie said, not backing down. “What are you gonna do?!”

Blaine didn’t respond.

“You have to admit, that it’s completely pointless to pit against each other like this. The whole thing is a trap. Do I need to remind you about those missing figures from the foyer? Aidan and Mrs. Romero _are _connected. Mr. Owen’s hand is plain to see. The question is...where the fuck is he?!”

“Okay, okay.” Doctor Andrews said, trying to calm the two others down. “Nothing will get accomplished by pointing fingers at each other. Why don’t we just go back inside, and say no more about this?”

“You guys go. I’m going to go and see if I can make a signal to the mainland.” Charlie said, pulling out his high-beam flashlight.

“Another bit of your own protection kit?” Blaine asked sarcastically.

Charlie did nothing more but walk down to the shoreline, rolling his eyes.

*****

Elizabeth walked down to the shoreline, and found the Senator sitting where he originally was.

“Mr. Senator?” She asked. “We’re already with brunch. You want to come in now? It looks like it’s gonna rain soon.”

The Senator continued to stare out into the lake. He took a deep breath.

“I was in love with her...you know.” He exhaled.

“Who?” Liz asked.

“Juliet.”

“Who’s Juliet?”

“I don’t know what she ever saw in that young man. Maybe they were closer in age to each other.” The Senator said, sadly.

“Who are you talking about?”

“I mean...she wasn’t _that _much younger than I. Maybe fifteen years. It didn’t matter to me...and it didn’t matter to her...at first.”

“Wait...are you talking about...?” Liz began.

“Of course, my dear!” The Senator answered, annoyed. “I’m talking about ‘my mistress’. But I didn’t see it like that.”

“Did...did Richards ever find out?”

“I don’t think so. She never let on, and he never acted differently. I don’t believe she would’ve ever told him about it. But then...one day. She...she changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The damned fool decided to ask her to marry him. And she...she, _the little whore_...said yes. And when she did, she became distant with me. It wasn’t long before she decided to end things with me once and for all. Said she was going to remain ‘_faithful_’ to him.”

“Oh.” Liz muttered.

“I guess you could say that it was murder after all.” The Senator said all at once.

Liz’s heart plummeted. She didn’t expect that at all.

“Wh-what was murder after all?”

“What I did to Richards.” The Senator said, completely drained of emotion. “I _sent_ him to his death. I knew beforehand that the area in question was hostile. All of the others knew better than to involve themselves in such a territory. It was an ISIS haven. But I knew too. And what’s more, I deliberately arranged that I wouldn’t make that flight in time. And I instructed my IT department to forward any messages to me in regard to the hostilities, and any messages asking for help. And I deleted them all. No one suspected me. But I think she might’ve guessed. Because right afterwards, she left Washington to a place where I couldn’t reach her.”

Liz stared at the Senator in horror.

“And now...it’s quite clear that this Mr. Owen character knows. And he’s taken care of everything.” The Senator said calmly.

“Everything?” Liz asked.

“Of course. The others are all waiting for the boat to come. But they’re wrong. No one is coming for us. We’re here until the end.”

“The end?”

“We’re all going to die.” The Senator said.

Liz was clearly disturbed by that phrase. “Okay...I’m going to go now.”

“What a pity...” The Senator muttered. “You don’t understand it yet. But you will.” He said to Liz, before turning his attention back to the lake.

*****

Morley sat with his binoculars glued to the window of the room he rented. He kept an eye on the island as long as possible. When he saw Charlie’s flashlight blinking, he went on alert. Grabbing his flashlight, he looked through his binoculars once more.

_“Silver Wolf to Blue Dolphin. Respond. Over.”_

Morley picked up his flashlight and began pressing it off and on rapidly.

“Copy, Silver Wolf. Report. Over.” He tapped out.

He tried his best to balance the binoculars with one hand and writing down the translations with his other hand.

_“Situation bad. Possible trap. All ten persons of interests. Over.”_

Morley tapped his flashlight rapidly.

“Please elaborate. Over.”

_“Owen Accusations, Lockard included. Each accused of deaths. Two already dead. Over.”_

Morley nearly dropped his binoculars from the blunt update. He flashed his light again, asking Charlie to confirm what he just said.

_“Affirmative. Two guests dead. Suspicious. Need boat now. Over.” _

“Roger. Going to dock now. Will see what holdup is. Update at 1400?”

_“Copy that. Updating situation at 1400. Out.” _

Morley stowed away his binoculars and his flashlight and exited the room.

*****

Arriving at the dock, Morley was surprised to find the ticket booth closed. He looked around and saw only one person with hiking gear on. Morley approached.

“Hey! Hey buddy!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for the Narracott brothers. Any idea where they were?”

“I was looking for them too. They left a note on the gate. They had to close up and leave town for a family emergency?”

_“Shit!”_ Morley thought.

“Is there some way of contacting them?” He asked. “I kinda sort of have an emergency myself.”

“I mean, there’s a phone number. I tried already but it always goes to voicemail.”

Morley nodded in acknowledgement.

Returning to where he was staked out, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed for Legge.

_“Legge here. Go ahead.” _

“Morley here. I think we have a problem.”

*****

“So, you were saying that the Senator was behaving strangely?” Judge Westbrook asked the Doctor.

“As if he was in a trance.” Dr. Andrews replied.

The two of them were seated at the dining room table, when Blaine entered. Romero followed behind with a tray of glasses.

“No luck?” Westbrook asked.

“Nope. No one on this island except the eight of us.” Blaine responded.

Charlie entered next.

“Any luck with the mainland?” Dr. Andrews asked.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “I tried signaling to the dock. Couldn’t get any acknowledgement.”

“Morse code is a dead language now.” Westbrook commented. “S.O.S. Is one thing. But to send and receive complete sentences is another.”

“Yeah...” Charlie sighed, pretending to agree with the Judge. “It was worth a try anyway.”

Miss Beauregard arrived next, followed by Elizabeth. “Are we late?” The latter asked.

“No. The Senator hasn’t come in yet.” Romero said.

“I wonder where he is.” Blaine commented.

“I’m not even sure _he _knows where he is right now.” Dr. Andrews added.

“He’s still down by the shoreline. Near the back of the house.” Liz pointed out.

Dr. Andrews got up from his seat. “I’ll go and fetch him.” He said, before hustling out of the house. 

“The Senator was acting _really_ strange when I spoke with him.” Liz said.

“Really?” The Judge asked. “What did he say?”

“Well, amongst other things, he said that no one was coming for us. He said the boat will _never_ come.”

“Interesting.” The Judge replied, stroking his chin. “Anything else?”

“He…he confessed to what he was accused of.”

“What do you mean?”

Liz went into detail about what the Senator had told her earlier.

After she was done, the Judge pushed his plate forward with his finger. He then turned his attention to Charlie and Blaine.

“Gentlemen. As I was sitting on the terrace the better part of this morning, I couldn’t help but notice you two and the Doctor, being very active. Am I correct in assuming that you were searching for an unknown murderer?”

Charlie nodded silently.

“I’ve also come to the conclusion…” The Judge continued. “That the deaths of Mr. Marshall and Mrs. Romero were neither accidental, nor suicidal. You agree?”

“Yup.” Blaine added.

“So, it’s therefore safe to assume that it’s no secret what the intention is, of Mr. Owen in getting us all to assemble here on this island?”

“Yeah.” Blaine said. “The guy’s a nutjob!”

“Most definitely.” The Judge said. “And from what Miss Callahan had just explained to us in regard to the Senator, aren’t we trying to find a…as you say, ‘nutjob’?”

The six of them stared in silence for a moment. They were jolted out of their trains of thought by the slamming of the front door, followed by Doctor Andrews rushing back into the dining room, with a look of horror on his face.

Liz shot up from her seat. “The Senator…?”

Doctor Andrews slowly nodded. “He’s dead.”

Everyone got up from their seats.

“I’ll…I’ll need help bringing him in.” The Doctor said.

Blaine and Charlie quickly followed him out of the Dining Room. Passing through the foyer, Charlie caught something in the corner of his eye.

“STOP!” He shouted.

Everybody froze and looked in the direction he was looking.

On the table in the middle of the room, there were now seven little china figures.

“One said he’d stay here, and then there were seven.” He said.

*****

_“You mean to tell me that this guy Owen lured them all into a trap?!” _Legge’s voice on Morley’s cellphone said, in disbelief.

“That’s what I thought too. But according to Maine, two of the guests are already dead. And he considers them both signs of foul play. Maine also asked if I could find out why the ferry was taking so long in getting to the island.”

_“And did you?” _

“Yeah. By sheer coincidence, the Narracott brothers left town. Family Emergency, the note said.”

_“What the fuck?!” _Legge’s voiced boomed over the speaker.

“My thoughts exactly, sir. Too badly timed.”

_“Actually…” _Legge said hesitantly. _“My gut instinct tells me it’s too perfectly timed.”_

“How so?”

_“Right when those guests need the boat to come with all due speed, there’s no one around to answer the call, because of a reason that exonerates the brothers for having a lame excuse.” _

“Jesus. What do you want me to do, sir?”

_“I need you to keep double watch on the island. Stand by to receive Maine’s signals at all times. Hayward’s still working the other end of this case, so I can’t spare anyone right now. But I will contact the local authorities in that area and tell them to bring a Zodiac boat if they have to. The next time Maine signals you, tell him we are doing the best we can to get him out of there.”_

“Copy that, sir. Let me know how things work out on your end.” 

_“Will do. Legge out.”_

*****

Doctor Andrews returned from his examinations and met with everyone inside the Lounge. The Judge leaned on the pool table, where he could see everyone. Seeing the Doctor approach, he spoke up.

“Well?”

Dr. Andrews shrugged his shoulders. “If anyone tries to say that it was an accident or suicide, they’re clearly delusional. He was clubbed in the back of the head by a blunt object. My best guess is one of the many medium-sized rocks on the shoreline.”

“You’re sure?”

“I couldn’t find anything else. My point is, if he slipped and fell, be it by accident or suicide, it would’ve had to have been perfectly time. Besides, I found him lying face down.”

The Judge nodded.

“Well. There we have it. Now we know where we stand.” He said.

“The hell we do!” Blaine argued back. “How the fuck is this possible?! We checked the whole damn island! There’s no one here!”

The Judge cleared his throat. “Are you done?” he asked Blaine.

Blaine responded by going to the bar and opening a bottle of Coke.

“Now, Mr. Blaine. You had just said there is no one else on this island. No one but the seven of us, you mean. You’ll be keen to know that _I _have come to the same conclusion as you had. If I was absolutely certain of my thoughts, I would’ve told you earlier this morning, that your search of the island would’ve been a waste of time.

“However, I’ve also reached the conclusion that the invisible Mr. Owen is in fact here on this island.”

“You can’t be serious!” Charlie groaned in frustration.

“Very much so.” The Judge answered back. “And consider this: Mr. Owen believes that we are all individuals, brought here on this island for certain crimes which the law cannot touch. Given the scheme in question, which is neither more nor less, than Mr. Owen taking it upon himself to ‘execute justice’, there is only one way that Mr. Owen can put this scheme into effect. After all, he could’ve only come to this island one way. It’s very obvious to me. You won’t find Mr. Owen hiding inside the house, or somewhere on the island, or attempting to swim away. You won’t have to look any further than this very room we are all sitting in.

“Mr. Owen is one of _us_.”

And then, as if by cue, the lightning flashed, thunder clapped loudly, and the rain began to pour.


	5. SEVEN!

**CHAPTER FOUR: Seven Little Soldier Boys Chopping Up Sticks; One Chopped Himself in Halves, And Then There Were Six.**

Charlie stood in front of the fireplace, staring at the framed nursery rhyme that stood out ten times more than when he first read it. He studied every single line, every single ending, until he could recite the whole thing from Ten to None.

Outside, the rain was pouring and blowing with a strong breeze. Visibility of the mainland became minimal. Hopefully, Morley would understand, because as far as Charlie could tell, it would be impossible for one to send signals and for the other to receive them now.

All Charlie had to do now was wait for the storm to be over.

Elizabeth sat at her usual chair staring out the window. Her forehead was touching the glass. She wanted nothing more than to leave this island once and for all.

Blaine was rolling cue balls around on the billiard table.

Miss Beauregard was seated by the fireplace, knitting with her wool.

Feeling like he was going to lose his mind, Charlie exited the Lounge, crossed the foyer and entered the Dining Room, where Judge Westbrook and Doctor Andrews were sitting. On the table, they had a chess board on the table with one King piece, and nine black and white pawn pieces on the board.

“How long have you guys been playing?” Charlie asked.

“We’re not.” The Judge answered, his eyes not leaving the board.

“Okay…” Charlie paused, waiting for an answer.

Doctor Andrews spoke up. “We’re trying to figure out how we can get to the bottom of this.”

The others must’ve heard this conversation, for they had shortly followed Charlie into the Dining Room.

“So.” Westbrook began. “There are ten of us involved in this whole thing.” He said, motioning to the chess pieces. “Nine are innocent, and the last one is Mr. Owen, as you can see by the pieces on the board.”

As he was explaining, everyone took a seat at the table.

“Out of all of us on this island, three are posthumously cleared of suspicion. Aidan Marshall, Mrs. Romero, and the Senator. Those three are taken out of the equation, leaving us with seven little soldier boys. Six, considering the last one is bogus.” The Judge said, removing three pawn pieces from the board.

“The last one being Mr. Owen.” Dr. Andrews continued for the Judge. “The Question is, who is it?” He asked, looking at the others, with a suspicious glare at each one.

“Why are you looking at us, man?!” Blaine asked, offended. “It could be you for all we know!”

“What would _I _gain to be a serial killer? I have a PhD!” Dr. Andrews defended.

“So?” The Judge asked rhetorically. “I have a gavel. Mr. Blaine has a badge, Miss Beauregard has a ruler stick, Mr. Lockard has a tool kit, and Miss Callahan has a social media following. And all of that means absolutely nothing. People of all our standings have those and yet they’ve all gone equally mad enough to commit murder.”

“But I haven’t…” Liz began.

“Miss Callahan, calm down.” The Judge said, raising his hand. “I’m not accusing you, nor anyone else in this room. I am simply laying out the facts. We are _all_ capable. Character and position are not applicable to exonerating ourselves. What we need are facts. Is there anyone of us that can be completely cleared of being the murderer?”

“Wait, what about Romero?” Charlie asked. “Do we include him?”

“Why not?”

“I mean…his wife’s one of the victims.” Charlie said.

“Again, what does that prove?” Westbrook asked. “I’ve dealt in plenty of cases where the husband was charged with the murder of his wife. And in each case, he was most certainly guilty.”

“Right.” Charlie continued. “On its own? Yes. It’s very possible. But is he the psychopath who refers to himself as Unknown Owen? I just can’t see it. Especially if he also killed that old woman with his wife.”

“But let’s not forget, Mr. Lockard. Romero was the one who put the iPod on. How do we know that he isn’t the owner and only pretending to be the staff? As for killing that old woman, he could’ve very easily have snapped and gone on a murderous rampage and suppose Mrs. Romero broke down at the realization that he is unstable.” Judge Westbrook explained.

Charlie shrugged his arms. “Fine. We’re all under suspicion. Now what?”

“We’re looking at this the wrong way.” Westbrook said. “We do not need to look at motive, just opportunity. We need to know if we can figure out who it is, by a process of elimination.”

“We better get Romero in here. If he’s a suspect too, he needs to give his testimony too.” Dr. Andrews said, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

Miss Beauregard scoffed as she continued knitting. “Personally, I find the idea that I could take one life, let alone three, is quite absurd, and blasphemous. But, under the circumstances of lack of proof, I’m glad no one can be exonerated.”

“Precisely, Miss Beauregard.” The Judge commented.

Dr. Andrews reentered with Romero, who took a seat next to Blaine.

“Well, Romero. As you no doubt are aware, we’ve concluded that one of us is a dangerous and homicidal maniac. What we called you in for is to determine who among us we can consider cleared of any suspicion.”

“Who is accusing me?!” Romero demanded immediately.

“No one is officially accused. We are all in grave danger right now. None of you seem to have that grasped yet. What we need to do is take the necessary steps in order to save our lives. Anyone that has suggestions, or information, or solid alibis, now would be a good time to come forward with them.”

“Lockard’s got a gun!” Blaine blurted out.

Liz, Westbrook, and Miss Beauregard all looked at Charlie in shock.

“So does Blaine.” Charlie said, rolling his eyes.

“I have a valid reason to carry, Lockard.”

“And I already told you, Blaine, that I too have a valid reason, as well as a permit.”

“He does, Judge.” Dr. Andrews said. “I’ve seen the permit. It checks out. I’ve yet to see Mr. Blaine’s permit.”

“Bro, I don’t need to show you my permit. I got a badge!” Blaine fired back.

“But didn’t you say that you were on a job to keep party-goers from trashing this place? Does that necessarily warrant for a gun?” Charlie challenged.

Blaine remained silent.

“Mr. Lockard…” Westbrook spoke up. “Perhaps you would care to explain why you have a gun?”

Charlie sighed.

“Before I speak, I just want it understood, that as far as everyone else is concerned, I only have my own word to go on. What I tell you is the truth, but I can’t force you to believe it if you won’t.”

“Very reasonable.” Westbrook commented. “I’m quite sure that goes for the rest of us. Unless otherwise, we all have only our own word to go upon. Continue.”

“Thanks.” Charlie said. “Well, I’ve already explained this to the Doctor and to Blaine. I have enemies. And more than once, an attempt was made on my own life. That gun is more for protection than anything else. I came to this island to confront Mr. Owen. I swear on my own life, that I did not know that anyone else would be on this island. I’m afraid that’s all I can say because that’s all there is to say. Take it or leave it.”

“Very well.” Westbrook said. “Mister Blaine?” He asked.

Blaine tightened his lips. “Why does _he _get to be let off like that?!”

“We’re not saying he is. But he gave an explanation. Let’s hear yours.”

“Look, I said it was party-goers. And Mr. Owen told me to be well prepared for trouble. I just assumed, okay?”

“Fine.” Westbrook continued. “Apart from that, does anyone else have anything else to say? Anything that could help us in identifying the Unknown Owen?”

Everyone else remained silent.

The Judge sighed. “So be it. Either no one has anything to say, or they’d rather not say in front of the others. It’s understandable. I only have this to say. Until things develop, we’ll have no other choice but to suspect each and every one here in this room. I warn everyone, to remain on their guard. So far, things have been easy for Mr. Owen, as his first three victims were caught unaware. But now we must take every precaution necessary. If not, then Mr. Owen will strike again, and again, until he is the last little soldier boy. Are we agreed?”

Everyone silently nodded.

*****

After the discussion at the dining room ended, Liz and Charlie returned to the Lounge to sit by the fireplace. They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Liz spoke up.

“You think it’s possible?” she asked.

Charlie took a deep breath. “So many things have occurred in our time, _anything_ is possible. Just never thought it would actually happen.” He said.

“I just wish that boat would come.” Liz commented.

“I know.” Charlie replied. “I’m no weather expert, but there’s just no way that they would be able to come even if they knew of our situation.”

“Are you sure that you weren’t able to reach out to anyone?”

Charlie sighed. He leaned forward. “Since you’re the only one who knows who I really am, I’ll tell you this. I was able to reach out to my partner with the signals. He’s at a hotel right now on the mainland. I told him what’s happening. He said he was going to find out why the boat was taking so long. I was supposed to make contact again at 2:00pm, but I have no idea if that’ll be possible given this weather. I certainly hope he shares that sentiment…”

“Hey…can I ask you something?” Liz asked.

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you admit your true identity to the others on this island? Blaine admitted why _he’s_ really here. Why are you still pretending to be Lockard?”

Charlie nodded in acknowledgement. “The thing is…” he began. “My team is still working on a case involving Lockard. Whoever Mr. Owen is, he’s never actually seen Lockard in person. I figured if I could pose as Lockard, I could find out how Owen knows about what Lockard did.” 

“You mean…with those twenty-one men?” Liz asked.

“Yeah.” Charlie said. “The NYPD’s absolutely positive that Lockard was behind it all. But for the longest time, we couldn’t pin it on him. He was careful not to leave evidence behind.”

“What exactly did he do?”

Charlie looked behind him and got up to check the foyer to make sure no one was nearby to overhear him. He returned to his seat.

“Lockard was a contractor. He also owned a bit of land. Last year, he was going to relocate, so he decided to use that land, and build a housing unit for homeless veterans. He considered himself patriotic.”

“Sounds admirable…” Liz prodded, knowing there was more to the story.

“But the city government was also interested in that lot. And they were going to use eminent domain to purchase the land for less than what Lockard considered it was worth. In his mind, they were going to rip him off so they could build another park.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly. So…in order to get the payment he sought out, he decided to cut corners to speed up the construction of the housing unit.”

“Cut corners? How?”

“Let’s just say that the community theater in that city made a generous donation from their set design department.”

Liz’s eyes widened. “Inferior wood?”

“Correct.”

“But why bother with building the unit in the first place?”

“As soon as the building goes up, so does the value of the land. Finally, he put on a front, accepted the city’s check, and cleared off. Unfortunately, shortly after, twenty-one homeless veterans rushed into the facility before the city could touch it. The weight of those men was too much for the cheap wood. And the building caved in.”

“Oh my god…” Liz sighed in disbelief.

“Yeah. We know that Lockard was behind it, but we didn’t have solid evidence to back it up. By the time we were ready to apprehend him, we found him dead inside his apartment. Most likely his suicide was caused by a certain invitation.”

“And that invitation…being this island?”

“Exactly. Mr. Owen obviously knows about Lockard’s crime. I’m here because I want to know why.”

“Wow. And now you’re keeping cover because…?” Liz began.

“Because I don’t want Mr. Owen to gain the upper hand. Whichever one of them it is, it’s just too risky.”

Liz looked at Charlie, her eyes narrowing.

“Wait…you don’t suspect me?” she asked.

“Of course not. I’ve known you since high school. You don’t strike me as someone that would do something to this magnitude.”

“What about the iPod?”

Charlie took a deep breath. “Let’s not get into that just yet. What matters is, I don’t suspect you, and hopefully you don’t suspect me…right?”

“Right.” Liz said.

“Anyway…allowing that it’s one of the other five, which of them do you think it is?” Charlie asked.

Liz leaned back in her chair and thought for a minute or two.

“Honestly? My money’s on Dr. Andrews.” She said.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. The first death was the result of a medical condition. How do we know that Dr. Andrews didn’t have access to Aidan’s medical history? He could’ve easily have known that Aidan was allergic to peanuts, therefore he set the stage before our very eyes. And who else had access to sleeping pills to administer to Mrs. Romero? Would she have taken such a prescription from anyone else?”

“Interesting.” Charlie said. “And what about Senator McCreevy? I only went down to the shoreline to signal to my partner for five minutes. And on my way up, I saw the Senator still sitting upright before I went back to the house. The Doctor was already seated in the dining room.”

Liz shook her head. “He couldn’t have killed him then. He’s the one who went down to get the Senator in the first place. He could have easily done it then. And he can say the Senator’s been dead for half an hour, and who are we to question it?”

“Wow.” Charlie breathed. “While I do see where you’re coming from, I think it’s someone else.”

“Who?”

“Someone who is a firm believer in punishing the guilty. After playing God for so long, his brain might snap, and then he might want to take things a step further and ascend to Executioner…after spending his career as a Judge.”

“You think it’s Judge Westbrook?!” Liz asked.

“It makes the most sense. He’s the one that’s practically taking over this whole thing. For all we know, that could just be a ruse. And it’s him that’s instilled the idea that one of us is Mr. Owen. He could try to manipulate us against each other.”

“Jeez…well I guess it makes the most sense.” Liz commented.

“Yeah. All the same, I wouldn’t trust myself around _any_ of them.” Charlie said. “So…” he extended his hand out to Liz. “Allies?”

Liz’s eyes glistened, as she grabbed Charlie’s hand. “Allies.” She said, feeling a world safer than she did before.

*****

Around the same time Liz and Charlie were sitting in the Lounge, Blaine and the Judge were walking back and forth in the hall upstairs.

“Want my opinion?” Blaine asked.

“On…?” The Judge prodded.

“I think it’s Miss Beauregard.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“I’ll give you an example. Four years ago, an elderly couple was killed in their bedroom. The only other person who was inside the house, was their daughter, a religious spinster, like Miss Beauregard.”

“And…?”

“There was talk about the daughter seeing her parents as sinners and stamping out their sins via murder. The motive was strong, but the idea alone was ridiculous. So ridiculous that they dropped the case. There was no other suspect.”

“And that’s your reasoning for suspecting Miss Beauregard?”

“Of course!” Blaine exclaimed. “She’s just as big of a nutjob when it comes to religion. Not only that, but she’s not scared. And she’s the only one who isn’t scared. If I were you, I would keep an eye on her.”

“Interesting. I assumed your suspicions were on someone else.” Judge Westbrook commented.

“They were at first, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that she’s the one we should be careful of. No remorse for those already dead. That could be a dead giveaway.”

*****

“Who is it, Doctor?!” Romero asked, as he was cutting up slices of ham to prepare for cold cut sandwiches.

Dr. Andrews leaned up against the refrigerator. He himself still had no idea who it could be. Like Charlie, it seemed impossible for him to think it was Romero. At least that’s what he wanted to believe. After all, it was the Doctor that saw through Romero about the murder of that elderly woman. What he wasn’t sure of, was why.

“I don’t know…” Dr. Andrews said. “But if you want my honest opinion, I think it’s Blaine.”

“The Cop, _Senor_?” Romero asked.

The Doctor nodded. “I mean I’m not saying I condone Lockard for bringing a gun to the island. And his story may have been made up, but as far as I’m concerned about Blaine, he could be anyone. He’s already lied about why he originally came to the island. And he still hasn’t provided us with a solid story about why _he _brought a gun to the island. He’s been sketchy from the start.”

“Oh. _Gracias, Senor_!” Romero sighed in relief. “I was beginning to fear that you were suspecting me!”

Dr. Andrews looked at Romero once more. “I don’t. However…” he began, catching the latter’s attention. “I’m not going to pretend that I don’t suspect you of something else.”

Romero’s face fell. “What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean…” Dr. Andrews sighed. “That what you told me about the ventilator failing, is a lie. I know the type of device you were referring to. And with how that kind of machinery is lifesaving, it relies on fail-safe power. It would have had to have been tampered with physically in order for it to be off long enough for Mrs. Clark to succumb to her ailment.”

Romero’s eye began to twitch. Dr. Andrews held his hands up in defense as he continued.

“Again, my suspicions fall on Blaine, not you. But someone else in this house might be suspecting you as we speak. I can vouch for you, if you just tell me the truth. It’s obvious to me that you tampered with the device. I just want to know why.”

Romero sighed. He checked the kitchen door to make sure none of the others were nearby to hear what was being said. Satisfied that no one was in the dining room, he returned to the Doctor.

“It is a simple matter, Doctor. Mrs. Clark was very wealthy. That much was apparent. She had no family, no close friends. How else could she afford for all of that medical equipment inside her apartment?”

“I would assume it was because she had good insurance.” Dr. Andrews remarked.

“Is that why you’ve taken such an interest in her case, Doctor?” Romero asked sarcastically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Romero shrugged his shoulders. “I just find it strange how one of your patients dies on the one day that you’re ‘out of town’.” He said, finger-quoting the ‘out of town’ part.”

“Do you want me to back you up when they all suspect you, or not?!” Dr. Andrews snapped.

Romero stopped himself, then took a deep breath to compose himself. “Regardless, she had money, and no one to collect after her death. It was just sitting there in her apartment up for grabs. But the problem was, she was conscious enough to make a call if need be. One day, she saw my wife loading up a bag. We panicked, and I tampered with the equipment. That’s all.”

Doctor Andrews looked down at his feet as he collected his thoughts. Romero returned to cutting up slices of ham.

The silence was interrupted by Liz entering the kitchen.

“Excuse me, Mr. Romero?” She asked. “It’s starting to get a little cold in the house. Is the fireplace the only source of heat?”

“No, miss. There’s a furnace down in the basement. I’ll put a few pieces of wood in it as soon as I’m finished here.” Romero said.

“Thank you.” Liz replied, before exiting the kitchen.

*****

Elizabeth walked into the Dining Room, where Miss Beauregard was sitting. The latter was concentrating on her cross-stitching.

“I asked Romero. He said he’ll get the furnace going as soon as he’s finished with lunch.”

“That’s fine…” Eleanor said.

Liz noticed that the Principal seemed to be preoccupied.

“Is everything okay?” She asked.

Miss Beauregard shook her head. “How can anyone be okay. One of us is possessed by the devil. And he is casting us all down into Hell.”

Liz looked in Miss Beauregard’s direction.

“Well…who do you think it is?” She asked the elderly principal.

Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the Judge and Blaine from the foyer.

“No sign of the storm letting up.” Blaine commented.

“If Lockard were to try signaling to the mainland again…” Westbrook added. “I doubt very much that they would be able to make out the signals with how thick the downpour is.”

Miss Beauregard sat up and looked around her.

“Has anyone seen my silver yarn?” She asked.

Everyone around her shook their heads.

Sighing, Miss Beauregard collected her things and stood up.

“Unless I’m needed for inquiries, I will retire to my room. Have Romero bring up a sandwich for me outside my door.” She said.

The other four looked at her as she made her exit.

As soon as she left, Doctor Andrews emerged from the Kitchen, and Charlie entered from the foyer as well.

“So now what?” The latter asked.

“Obviously, we cannot just sit here and not say what we are all thinking.” Westbrook said. “It’s obvious that we all suspect someone. They may all be different possibilities, unless some of us suspect the same individual.”

“No offense…” Blaine interrupted. “But if one person suspects another that’s sitting in this room, don’t you think that’ll make things awkward?”

“Which is why we really should try to explain our activities from last night until just before the Senator’s death.” Westbrook said. “If no one will come forward with who they think Mr. Owen is, then there’s no harm in trying to establish our own alibis.

“Let us start with the circumstances involving the death of Aidan Marshall. Who would like to give their testimony first?”

Charlie shrugged his arms. “I guess I’ll go first.” He said, leaning forward.

“I was at the billiard table, playing a game with Aidan. He forfeited and went to have a conversation with the Doctor about something. Then came the iPod incident. After Mrs. Romero screamed, Aidan and the Doctor attended to her. Romero brought out the iPod, and I showed it to you, Judge.”

“And then?”

“Then I sat down in a chair over by the window. It was perpendicular to the bar where Aidan’s vape pen, and the peanut bowl were sitting.”

Liz nodded. “I can vouch for him, Judge.”

Westbrook cleared his throat.

“That is as may be. But you must embrace the probability, that Mr. Marshall was preoccupied with helping Mrs. Romero to stand up. During this phase, you had time to smear the pen with the peanut dust before Mr. Marshall returned to the bar where he stood until his death.”

Charlie groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Nothing gets by you, does it?” He asked.

“I’m trying to establish every kind of possibility, Mr. Lockard. I am not accusing you, nor anyone. I am simply stating the facts. We were all pre-occupied with the event of Mrs. Romero fainting. That includes Miss Callahan.”

Charlie continued to rub his head. “Then what’s the point, Judge? Next I suppose you’re going to say that everyone that got up to stretch their legs had opportunity to tamper with Aidan’s pen. That everyone had an opportunity to administer an overdose to Mrs. Romero during the night, and that everyone could’ve easily picked up a rock and clubbed the Senator on the back of the head! Is that what you’re trying to accomplish? Trying to dismantle everyone’s defense? Like one of your own little courtroom cases?!” He said, his voice rising up.

Liz looked at Charlie in stunned silence.

Westbrook leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Lockard.” He began. “In the past, I have been referred to as a hanging judge. That is nothing more than pure slander. Am I harsh? Perhaps. But none of my cases that I presided over, have ever been without any evidence brought forth. I do not pick sides, Mr. Lockard. I pick facts. My years on the bench have taught me to determine a guilty party when I see it. There were at least seven occasions where an innocent man was wrongfully on trial. I presented the evidence brought forth and told the jury to deliver a mistrial. All other cases were ironclad.”

“And what about Al-Khaled?” Blaine asked. “Why was he mentioned in the recording?”

Judge Westbrook shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He said. “Perhaps the murderer, has targeted me in retaliation for sentencing a Muslim to die, in spite of the evidence pointing directly to him.”

Charlie leaned forward. He remembered what Dr. Andrews had said earlier.

“Was…” Charlie began. “Al-Khaled here, legally?”

“Refugee.” Westbrook answered. “At least he _claimed_ to be.”

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…maybe someone here picked you out of…retaliation?”

Dr. Andrews sat up, understanding what Charlie is getting at.

“You think it’s Romero?” the Doctor asked.

“Why not? You said it yourself. Sanctuary City. If he’s the last one standing, there will be protesters and politicians that’ll try and protect him, while at the same time, discrediting the rest of us by pointing out all of _our_ crimes.”

“Where is he now?” Blaine said, standing up from his chair.

“He said he was going to go down to the basement to get the furnace going.” Liz answered.

Charlie’s face fell. “Furnace? Did he say what kind?”

“Just that he needed to get some pieces of wood ready.”

Charlie immediately jumped from his seat and hustled to the Lounge. Sensing the alarm, the others followed suit. Charlie looked at the framed rhyme on the mantlepiece.

“Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks…” he muttered.

Then, as if on instinct, they all rushed back to the foyer.

“Oh my God!” Liz panicked.

“There’s six left!” Dr. Andrews cried out, pointing to the china figures.

*****

They found Romero’s body lying face down next to the furnace down in the basement. In his hand lay a hatchet, which the others assumed he would use for chopping up the firewood. But sticking out of his back, was a bloodstained machete.

“One chopped himself in half, and then there were six.” Charlie said under his breath.


	6. SIX!

**CHAPTER FIVE: Six Little Soldier Boys Playing With a Hive; A Bumblebee Stung One, And Then There Were Five.**

Charlie and Blaine dragged Romero’s body up the stairs, into the latter’s bedroom, and laid him neatly next to his dead wife, and covered both bodies.

Charlie and Blaine returned to the Lounge where Dr. Andrews, Judge Westbrook, and Elizabeth were all seated. They were slowly beginning to collect themselves from the shock.

“So it was the machete?” Westbrook asked.

Dr. Andrews nodded. “The murderer obviously crept up behind Romero, took one strong swing and hacked him in the back. The blow was strong enough to hit a vital organ.”

Charlie looked back at the rhymes. “Is anyone allergic to bee stings?” he asked.

The others looked at him, puzzled. Charlie saw their confused faces and groaned.

“Is _anyone_ even listening?! That’s the next line in the rhyme! That’s how the murderer’s been getting his victims! Aidan choked himself, Mrs. Romero overslept herself, the Senator said he’d stay here, and now Romero was chopped! The next line involves the sting of a bee! Is anyone here allergic to bees?!”

Blaine was the first to speak up.

“You seem very interested to know who is allergic to bee stings. Any reason why?”

Charlie pinched his nose in frustration. “Just once, can you please stop being a jackass, Blaine? I’m trying to figure out how we can protect ourselves. Let’s hear _your_ suggestions.”

Westbrook cleared his throat. “Only an hour ago, Mr. Blaine, have you confided in me that your suspicions fell on Miss Beauregard.”

“Wait…why her?” Dr. Andrews asked.

And before Blaine could answer, Liz cleared her throat. Everyone turned to see Miss Beauregard enter the Lounge.

“Where’s Romero?” The Principal asked, annoyed. “Why hasn’t he come up with my sandwich?”

“He’s dead.” Liz said, dumbfounded.

Miss Beauregard rolled her eyes. “Honestly…” she groaned. “You can’t get good help today.” She said, before walking back out towards the Kitchen, leaving the room stunned in silence.

“Uh…ok, I take back what I said.” Blaine said. “It’s back to her.”

Charlie sighed. “Remind me not to go with you to pick lottery numbers.” He told Blaine.

“But why did you suspect her before?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“She’s the only one out of all of us that’s completely unmoved by the bodies piling up in front of us.” Blaine explained. “And just now? _Still _no shock! I call religious hysteria on it. The woman’s clearly unstable!”

“I don’t know…” Liz said. “She seemed upset earlier today.”

“When?” Westbrook asked.

Liz paused.

“Sometime before she left to search for her silver yarn.”

“In other words…” Blaine prodded for her. “Right before Romero was killed?”

Liz slowly nodded.

“Okay. It’s her. It’s definitely her!” Blaine concluded, standing up from his chair.

“Wait, Mr. Blaine.” Westbrook said calmly. “We can’t just go barging in on her and telling her that we all think she’s the guilty one. We’ll need to examine her more before we can make any rash judgements.”

“You’re really gonna talk about rash judgement?” Blaine fired back.

Charlie stood up. “Knock it off, Blaine!” he said. “Let’s just go into the Kitchen now and see what she’s up to exactly.”

The rest got up from their seats and followed Blaine into the Kitchen.

*****

They opened the door into the kitchen to see Miss Beauregard seated at the table, with her back to them.

Charlie tapped Liz on the shoulder, signaling for her to make the first move.

“Um…Miss Beauregard?” She asked.

Eleanor did not answer.

“We…we were wondering if we could…can we talk for a moment?” Liz continued as she slowly approached the Principal.

Suddenly, realization came to Charlie, and he grabbed Liz’s arm, preventing her from moving an inch. Liz looked up and saw what got Charlie’s attention.

Hovering over the table, was a bee, circling in the air.

Acting on instinct, Doctor Andrews approached Miss Beauregard first. When he saw her face, he jerked back from shock.

Eleanor Beauregard’s eyes were half-closed, and her lips turned blue. She wasn’t moving an inch.

“Well…” Dr. Andrews sighed. “We can rule her out as a suspect.”

“Look!” Liz pointed out.

Dr. Andrews looked back at the bee, which seemed to stop flying around, and instead seemed to simply hover over the table. He examined the bee closely, and after poking it, noticed it was swinging back and forth.

“It’s just a plastic bee…” He said. “It’s hanging on a fishing line.”

“But…what killed her?!” Liz asked.

Dr. Andrews picked up Eleanor’s wrist, and opened up her fingers to see what was inside.

Her hand revealed an empty epi-pen.

The Doctor took it and opened it up to smell the contents. “I’m getting something.” He sniffed more directly. “I’m leaning towards…cyanide. Maybe potassium cyanide.”

“There’s our bee sting...” Charlie muttered.

*****

Hayward was driving back to headquarters with his partner, Taverner. While Charlie was trying to uncover Mr. Owen, Hayward and Taverner were tasked with trying to find witnesses who knew Philip Lockard and if there were other rackets that he was behind. Taverner was behind the wheel while Hayward was on the phone with Legge.

“Right. Yeah. Okay. Well we’re on our way back to the precinct now. Want us to head over right afterwards?” Hayward asked into the phone. “Yes, sir. We’ll brief in your office. ETA, ten to twenty minutes.” He confirmed, before hanging up.

“Any development with Maine?” Taverner asked.

Hayward shook his head. “Weather’s bad up there. According to Legge, Morley said it’s getting near difficult to even tell if Maine’s making any kind of signals. While Morley’s waiting for word, Legge is looking into the matter of trying to find an emergency team that’ll take a boat over to the island as soon as they can. As soon as we get to the precinct, we’ll need to head over to Pennsylvania to assist Morley however we can.”

Taverner sighed. “I can’t believe that two homicides happened right under their noses.”

“I know.” Hayward commented. “And what’s more, Maine doesn’t know who it is. It could be any one of the other guests.”

“Do we know anything about the guests in question?” Taverner asked.

Hayward shrugged his shoulders. “Not especially.”

_“All units in the vicinity, we have a 10-54 on Varick and 5th. Please respond.” _The radio crackled.

“That’s not far by us.” Taverner said.

Hearing no one else respond to the dispatch, Hayward sighed and picked up the mouthpiece to the radio.

“Car 23C to Dispatch. We’ll handle the call. Please advise Lieutenant Legge that we are responding to the call and will be delayed. Over.”

_“Roger that, 23C. We’ll deliver the message. The location is a talent agency.”_

“Copy that, Dispatch. We’ll find out what we can. Out.”

Taverner shook his head as he turned their police car into the new direction. “The Boss isn’t gonna be happy about this.”

*****

Hayward and Taverner ducked underneath the police tape to enter the crime scene. They had met with the Coroner, Dr. Constantine, who was looking over his notes.

“What’ve we got?” Hayward asked.

“Ian Morris. Talent Booking Agent. Looks like an OD.” Dr. Constantine said. “The guy was found dead in his office. There were a bunch of pills spread out across the desk. One of the guy’s clients made the call. Says he found the body while trying to settle a payment.”

“Okay, Taverner, you check in the office. Is the witness still here?” Hayward asked the Coroner.

“Yeah he’s sitting in the waiting room.” Dr. Constantine said.

Hayward approached the witness.

“Afternoon sir. Mind answering a few questions?”

The witness shook his head.

“Can you give us a rundown of what exactly happened?” Hayward asked, taking out his notepad.

“Well…” The witness began, his voice shaking. “A few days ago, I did a recording for Mr. Morris. I answered his ad online and submitted a vocal recording for him. I came here to collect my check. He wasn’t answering my calls, so I tried the door to see if it was locked. I opened it up and…found his corpse.”

“I see. Can you tell me more about what Mr. Morris was looking for specifically?”

“I don’t know what else to tell you about it. I contacted him about the gig. Then he emails me a script; tells me it’s for a courtroom drama or something.”

“Would you mind pulling up the email?” Hayward asked.

The witness took out the phone and searched for the email. “Here it is.” He said, handing the phone to Hayward.

“And this is the script?”

The witness nodded as Hayward read the script.

**VOICE:**

(_Read each conviction with menace, and a form of disdain for the perpetrators_.)

Ladies and Gentlemen. Silence Please! _Pause_ You are charged with the following indictments!

  * Senator Gordon McCreevy; that you did deliberately send your mistress’s fiancé, and personal assistant, Harrison Richards, to his death!

_Pause_

  * Doctor Colin Andrews; that you did betray the humility of your profession and cause the death of Georgina Schmidt.

_Pause_

  * Detective Sergeant Lamar Blaine; that you compromised your oath to serve and to protect and in doing so, brought about the death of Kevin Lee.

_Pause_

  * Chief Justice Leonard Westbrook; that you are guilty of the murder of Aziz Al-Khaled, an innocent man executed on your sentence.

_Pause_

  * Principal Eleanor Beauregard; that you were responsible for the death of Brittany Thompson.

_Pause_

  * Philip Lockard; that you were guilty of the death of twenty-one men; homeless veterans of the United States Army.

_Pause_

  * Elizabeth Callahan; that you did murder your sister’s boyfriend, CJ Barclay, the father of your unborn nephew.

_Pause_

  * Aidan Marshall; that you were guilty of the murder of Gary and Linda Fowler.

_Pause_

  * Jose and Isabel Romero, that you brought about the death of Marion Clark.

_Pause_

Prisoners at the Bar! Have you anything to say in your defense?!

_End._

Hayward’s attention drew instantly to one of the names. As he was reading and re-reading to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, Taverner came back from Morris’s office, having gotten off his cellphone.

“Vice is on their way. They’ll take a closer look at the drugs this guy took. Looks like not much more to be said about it.”

Hayward showed the email to Taverner. “I beg to differ.” He said.

Taverner looked at the email. After reading it, his eyes widened.

“My thoughts exactly!” Hayward chuckled.


	7. FIVE!

**CHAPTER SIX: Five Little Soldier Boys Studying For Law; One Got Into Chancery, And Then There Were Four.**

Night had fallen at long last. Charlie, Elizabeth, Blaine, Dr. Andrews, and the Judge all sat around the dining room table, staring at each other, not saying a word. The chess board now had four pawn pieces along with the King piece. Two pieces were taken off the board in the wake of Romero and Miss Beauregard’s deaths. The skies outside were growing darker, with the occasional flash of lightning and even louder rumble of thunder. Any chance of the boat coming tonight was out of the question.

And to make matters even worse, the lights began to dim every so often. Blaine went to check on the generator. It was running low on gas. The rest of the group scavenged the entire house to search for candles and flashlights and brought every source of light to the table.

Another precaution that was brought up, was the disposal of anything that could be used as weapons.

Doctor Andrews submitted to an examination of the types of pills he carried with him. None of them turned out to be lethal, but all the same, his medical bag was placed on the table.

The Judge had asked both Charlie and Blaine to turn in their handguns, to which Charlie reluctantly agreed, and to which Blaine nearly refused at first. But when both parties went to their rooms to retrieve their weapons, both had found their night-stand drawers to be empty. Another thorough search of the house proved futile, as neither gun had been found.

“So no one’s seen either gun?” Charlie asked.

No one answered.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Blaine muttered under his breath.

“Except for those two weapons, however…” Westbrook said. “Everything else is accounted for. All of the drugs are on this table. The knives, scissors, and anything sharp are in one of the kitchen cabinets, rigged with a zip tie we found in the utility drawer, making it impossible to break it open.”

“There’s still the matter of the epi-pen.” Dr. Andrews pointed out. “Someone here knew that Miss Beauregard had diabetes.”

Liz looked down at her hands on the table. “She…she mentioned it earlier this morning.”

When she saw all eyes on her, she spoke out loud. “But that can’t mean that _I _did it!”

“It doesn’t.” Charlie said, coming to her defense. “Miss Beauregard had mentioned it to me as well, when I was helping with the coffee earlier.”

Liz looked in his direction. She knew he was lying to cover for her.

“So they could be plotting this together!” Blaine said.

Charlie and Liz groaned in unison.

“You know, Blaine…” Charlie began. “I would normally state the obvious and say that you suspect me, but I don’t want to die just yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Every time you suspect someone, they wind up dead. In spite of my feelings towards you, you’ll be surprised to know that I _don’t _suspect you.”

“Why not?”

“Lack of imagination. A psychopathic killer like U.N. Owen can run circles around you if he wanted to.”

“Gee. Thanks.” Blaine said sarcastically.

“You’re overlooking something, Mr. Blaine.” Westbrook spoke up. “Mr. Lockard, and Miss Callahan have come forward with their knowledge of Miss Beauregard having diabetes, thereby giving themselves the information needed in order to know about the epi-pen, and subsequently swapping out the insulin with the cyanide. While this piece of knowledge puts them both at risk of being suspected as Mr. Owen, at least they have come forward.”

“So?” Blaine asked.

“So, it is time for us all to come forward with all it is that we know.” Westbrook said finally.

When no one spoke up, he leaned forward.

“Fine. I will begin. This was something that I had thought about last night, but the circumstances of today have restrained me from discussing it lightly. I had come to the realization of it sometime after Mr. Marshall had choked himself.”

“And that is?” Charlie asked.

“A case involving him prior to his iPod allegation. I didn’t recall the name until after the incident, while I was alone in my bedroom.”

“You met him before?” Dr. Andrews asked.

Westbrook nodded. “He appeared before me. He was on trial for a hit-and-run. This wasn’t as…shall we say, consequential as the incident involving Gary and Linda Fowler.”

“What are you saying?” Liz asked.

“I am saying, my dear girl, that I have not been completely honest before. For once, in all of my years on the bench, I had failed in my duty and search for justice. I dismissed the charges; pointed the jury to the evidence presented by Mr. Marshall’s defense attorney. I had nothing to gain from clearing his name. I had…for lack of a better term, personal disagreements with the prosecution, and I rigged this particular case in order to ruin the Prosecutor’s reputation. They wound up losing the case…and as a result, two days later, Gary and Linda Fowler lost their lives.”

Liz covered her mouth in shock. Charlie winced at the realization.

“So…it’s my fault that those two kids are dead.” Westbrook admitted. “Their eldest brother had sent me several letters of hate mail in retaliation. I didn’t blame him. I had acted selfishly, and innocent blood paid for my ignorance.

“Having said that, I still do not know why Al-Khaled was brought up. But there you have it. I have come forward. Who’s next?” Westbrook asked.

Dr. Andrews exhaled a deep breath and took a big gulp from his bottle of water.

“The iPod wasn’t wrong…” he began. “I _was _around on the day that Mrs. Schmidt needed that emergency procedure; the one that could’ve saved her life. But I was also in the run to become the newest Residency Director. The hospital I was stationed at, was a for-profit hospital. And Mrs. Schmidt had no medical insurance. Let’s just say…it would’ve hurt my chances for the position I was after, if I had treated an uninsured patient. So…” he then raised his right hand. “I plead guilty, but to following hospital policy, not to killing.”

Charlie sighed as he took one of the chess pieces that was discarded from the board and fiddled with it in his hands, as he went into detail Lockard’s crime which he had already explained to Liz.

When everyone else looked at Blaine, he got up.

“What’s the point of this bullshit?!” he demanded.

“I think it will make more sense once we’ve all told the truth.” Westbrook said. “Think of it as a process of elimination.”

Dr. Andrews winced. “Too soon, Judge.”

“But _I _didn’t kill anyone!” Blaine insisted.

Charlie leaned forward. “We’re listening.” He prodded.

Blaine slammed his fist on the table. “Fuck!” he blurted out. “Fine. This kid. Kevin Lee? He was innocent. But the group that I was in support of was out to get him. All I did, was bring them to him.”

“Who was the group?” Charlie asked.

Blaine took a deep breath. “Antifa.” He said.

Judge Westbrook leaned back in his seat, disturbed by this revelation.

“What?! I’m allowed to my beliefs!” Blaine insisted.

“So you have no problem with them committing acts of violence while at the same time claiming to be against violence? You’re a cop, for fuck’s sake!” Charlie countered. “You’re supposed to serve and to protect!”

“They offered me more for this one favor than I make in a month! In this economy you gotta look after yourself, man!” Blaine defended.

“And let me guess: After you sold Lee out, Antifa began their ‘peaceful’ demonstration, and Lee died from the injuries he sustained?”

“Man, I didn’t know he was gonna die!”

“You’re right. That’s just your shitty luck.”

“How is it _my _problem?”

“Because of what you did, Mr. Owen invited you to your probable demise.”

“Gentlemen!” Westbrook demanded. “Please. We’ve had enough.”

He then turned to Liz, who remained silent the longest.

“Liz?” Charlie asked. “You okay?”

Liz shook her head. “I know what’s coming. You’re all waiting for me to spill it.”

Westbrook shook his head. “There’s no judgement here.”

“Bullshit!” Liz exclaimed, shocking the others. “I know what you’re trying to do!” She said. “You think you have it all figured out! You’re trying to get me to open up about what happened, and you think it’ll point you in the direction of who Mr. Owen is. But the fact is, I don’t _have _to tell you guys anything! I don’t know _any _of you!” She said, her attention focusing on Charlie, who remained silent.

“So you reserve your defense?” Judge Westbrook asked.

“It has nothing to do with defense, you pompous ass! None of you are entitled to know what happened. You’re trying to make me the bad person just because what happened is personal, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Miss Callahan…” the Judge reminded her. “The boat will come for us eventually. As long as we all remain alive, we will have to alert the police, no matter what. And I can assure you that the law will find out either way.”

“You think you’re above the law just because you’re a judge? Well joke’s on you, because you confessed to _your own error_! So this doesn’t make you any better than the rest of us. And the way that you keep asking me questions, it might as well come down to this: you suspect me simply because I won’t open up to you, I suspect the Doctor because three of the five deaths were easy for him to accomplish, the Doctor suspects Blaine because Blaine was here under false pretenses, Blaine suspects Lockard because of the gun, and finally, Lockard suspects you because of your obsession with weeding out the guilty. It’s the perfect fucking pentagram. And since none of us can trust each other, I’ll make things easier for you; I am going to go up to my room, and lock the door tight, and not set foot outside. And the first person to approach my door so help me, I will punch them in the face, and given the circumstances, none of you can stop me!”

And with that, she got up, grabbed a flashlight, and stormed out of the dining room.

Charlie’s eyes never left her.

“Let her be.” Dr. Andrews said. “At the very least, nothing can happen to her if we all stay here.”

“You’re still protecting her even after she admitted to suspecting you?” Blaine asked.

Dr. Andrews shrugged. “It’s not ideal. But let’s be honest. We all suspect each other. And we all have valid reasons to be suspicious. I think we’re past the point of pretending. There are five of us left. One of us is a murderer. Plain and simple.”

Westbrook nodded. “I don’t believe I will ask if anyone here wishes to deny her statement. Is she completely correct?”

Charlie sighed. “She explained to me earlier her reasons for suspecting the Doctor. But there’s one thing I wasn’t really counting on.”

“And that is…?” Westbrook prompted.

“Is it true that you suspect her?” Charlie asked.

Westbrook leaned back in his chair. “I have several points to back that statement up. One. If her story is true, then her reasoning is correct about what separates Mr. Owen from the rest of us: the truth of our committing any crimes. Those that have already fallen have opened up about what the iPod had accused them of. She is the only one who hasn’t. Two. I doubt very much that Miss Beauregard had confided in _you_, Mr. Lockard, that she was diabetic. It’s more logical if she confided with another woman. Either way, someone knew that she was diabetic, thus giving them the information needed to tamper with the epi-pen. And three, Miss Callahan is an efficient, and resourceful young woman. She has remained quiet the majority of the day with regards to this whole thing. Silence speaks volumes.”

Suddenly, the flickering lights finally gave out. And out of nowhere, a blood curling scream came from the second floor.

Charlie jumped up and grabbed another flashlight. Dr. Andrews grabbed one of the candles, and Blaine took out his cellphone, turned it on and activated the cellphone flashlight. Judge Westbrook followed close behind the Doctor.

They all hustled up the stairs. But in the pitch dark, it was hard to see.

And then, quite suddenly, a gunshot!

*****

Charlie found Liz sitting in the corner of the hallway, in a fetal position. When she looked up at him, she backed away.

“Keep away from me!” She screamed.

Charlie knelt down. “Liz! Liz! It’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.” He said calmly.

When Liz studied the face, she knew it was him, and immediately jumped straight into his arms.

“I can’t fucking take it!” She began sobbing into his shoulder. “I hate this place! I want to get out of here.”

Charlie rubbed her back. “It’s alright. I’m here. What happened?” He asked.

“My flashlight’s battery was running low. When I opened my door, something smacked me in the face. I couldn’t tell what it was in the dark, but it was wet, and cold, and prickly. It was horrifying.”

Blaine came up after checking the door, holding what looked like a long green rope in his hands. “It was a pile of seaweed. I found it hanging over a hook directly above the door frame.”

Doctor Andrews followed behind. “No wonder she screamed. But who put it up there to begin with?”

No one answered.

Charlie stood up to examine the seaweed. “Guys…” he said, picking it up. “This seaweed had been tied up into a noose.”

Doctor Andrews’ eyes widened. “Does that mean…the Chancery line?”

“Could be.” Charlie said. “Maybe whoever set this up, intended for her to walk into a trap, the noose falling perfectly around her head.”

“As soon as it touched me I pushed it far away and ran away from my door.” Liz said.

“Smart thinking.” Charlie said, rubbing Liz’s shoulder once more.

“Guys…?” Doctor Andrews began slowly. “Where’s the Judge?”

Everyone stood up. Liz held onto Charlie’s arm tightly.

“I could’ve sworn he was behind us.” Blaine said.

“Me too.” Charlie added. “I couldn’t tell in the dark, but I thought I felt someone shove past me.” He said, his face falling when he suddenly remembered. “…before the gunshot!”

“A gunshot?!” Blaine exclaimed. “That son of a bitch!”

“What?” Liz asked.

“It’s the Judge! He knew too much, so he tried to pick us off in the dark!”

“There’s only one way to find out!” Charlie said, leading the way back down to the stairs.

*****

They found the Judge strewn across the floor at the foot of the stairs. By his feet, a revolver. Charlie knelt down to examine it.

“It’s mine…” he said.

Doctor Andrews knelt down and examined the Judge’s body. Wrapped around his head was the silver yarn that Miss Beauregard was missing. It was strung along his head, to look like a judge’s wig in court.

“He’s been shot. Through the forehead.”

“Are you sure?” Liz asked.

Dr. Andrews nodded.

Charlie checked his magazine clip. He stood there, puzzled. “All of my rounds are still here. The nozzle’s cold.” He said.

“_My _gun’s still missing.” Blaine pointed out.

“Supposing that it was _Blaine’s_ gun that killed him, granting that it wasn’t Blaine himself, why was Lockard’s gun found here?” Dr. Andrews asked.

No one answered.

Sheathing his weapon, Charlie helped Blaine and the Doctor lift up the Judge’s body as they carried him back up the stairs.

None of them even bothered to look at the four remaining china figures sitting on the table.

“Only today you suspected him of being the murderer.” Liz remarked to Charlie.

“I know.” He responded. “And now he’s been proven innocent...too late.”

*****

Morley sat at his window the better part of the night. He’d been waiting for a signal from Charlie for hours. Nothing.

He was shaken out of his stare by the sound of his cell phone buzzing. He picked it up and accepted the call.

“Morley here.”

_“Morley, it’s Hayward. Sorry I couldn’t get in touch sooner, but there have been some developments.”_

“I kinda figured that. Did the Boss tell you what Maine’s last report was?”

_“Yeah I heard. Whoever Mr. Owen is, he seems to be on quite the killing spree all over.” _

“I’m getting worried. Maine hasn’t checked in since then. That was hours ago.”

_“You said the weather was pretty bad up there, right?” _

“Well, yeah. Electrical storm. Even if the ferry was open, there’s no way they would be able to risk the ride over.”

_“Yeah. Taverner is trying to work the angle of why the Narracott brothers are out of town even before anyone knew about this freak storm.”_

“Wait. You said killing spree all over?” Morley asked.

_“Yeah, that’s what I was calling about. We got called into a 10-54. But after what you reported earlier, we’re beginning to think that it was too well-timed.” _

“Who’s the vic?”

_“Ian Morris. Talent Agency. The autopsy found some drugs that you don’t even buy off of the street. My guess is he was silenced after his work was done.”_

“Silenced?”

_“We found evidence that links him to Mr. Owen. Emails to the ten individuals on the island, all from fake accounts. A voiceover script including their names, and what they’ve been charged with. It seems that Mr. Morris did more than just book mediocre actors for gigs.”_

“Think he was involved with the Lockard case?”

_“Probably not. But we have a better idea as to ‘how’ Mr. Owen was able to get the information. As it turns out, the witness that made the call after finding Morris’s body; he’s worked with Morris before. And would you believe me if I told you that the actor had a great uncle that once served in the Army?”_

“…and became homeless?” Morley finished the thought.

_“Exactly. Refused help from his family. The guy was too stubborn. After the building collapsed, his great nephew was devastated, and opened up to Morris about what happened.”_

“And that prompted him to tip off Mr. Owen?”

_“Bingo!” _

“Jesus. So what happens now?”

_“We got all that we need to catch this guy. As long as Maine can hold his own, the Calvary will be coming up first thing tomorrow morning.” _

“Why not now?”

_“Eh…Legge is having a shouting match with the County Sheriff of that area. Apparently, we can’t operate in that vicinity since it’s out of our jurisdiction.” _

“Typical…”

_“Yeah. So if you get the chance at all; if you can get in touch with Maine, tell him to sit tight and if possible, apprehend Mr. Owen.”_

Morley sighed. “Okay. I’ll see if he responds.”

_“Alright, sounds good. Hayward out.” _

Morley hung up and returned to his spot by the window.


	8. FOUR!

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Four Little Soldier Boys Sailing Out to Sea; A Red Herring Swallowed One, And Then There Were Three**

Doctor Andrews closed the door to the Judge’s room and rejoined the other three standing in the hallway. Their faces were illuminated by flashlights and candlelight, the only source of light left in the whole house.

“So what happens now?” Blaine asked.

“I don’t know.” Dr. Andrews said. “I would say we’d have to be careful. But look where that’s gotten the last person to say it.”

“How the hell could it have happened?” Blaine prodded.

“Obviously, that stuff was planted in Liz’s room to throw two of us off guard while the third takes the shot at the Judge; the Sixth Little Soldier Studying for Law.” Charlie suggested.

“Do we know that for certain?” Dr. Andrews asked. “It seems rather…coincidental.” He said, looking at Liz. “Maybe the Judge _was_ onto something.”

Liz narrowed her eyes. “You can’t be serious!”

“I’m just saying. If you didn’t make such a scene and run up to your bedroom, we’d all be downstairs still, and the Judge would still be alive.”

Charlie pulled Liz away from Dr. Andrews. “Or…” he prompted. “You or Blaine hooked up the seaweed in her bedroom, and you’re trying to frame Liz for it.”

“I don’t think so.” The Doctor countered. “The Judge was onto something.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because he and I talked. You see, Mr. Lockard, you’re not the _only _one who can form an alliance.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. The Doctor turned his attention back to Liz. “Now, Miss Callahan. We’re past niceties. Now we have a right to know. Is there, or is there not any truth to the iPod accusation?”

Liz took a deep breath.

“If I said no, would you believe me?” She asked.

Doctor Andrews nodded.

“Good. Now leave me the fuck alone.” Liz snapped before storming into her room and slamming the door shut.

Charlie followed behind and stood between the Doctor and Liz’s door.

“Are you going to tell me that you don’t believe her at all?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, no.” Dr. Andrews said. “I believe her completely. And that’s just the problem.”

Charlie let out a frustrated sigh. “How?!” He said, exasperated.

“Exactly as the Judge calculated. It’s simply this: Owen got us all here to be punished for our crimes. Right?” Dr. Andrews asked Blaine, who nodded.

“Now, the three of us, and the Judge, all admitted to our…let’s just say murders. So, the four of us plead guilty.”

“Correct…” Charlie said slowly.

“So what could the three of us hope to gain, from the punishment of crime? In short, Mr. Lockard, ‘Mr. Owen’ is the one out of all of us that _hasn’t_ committed murder.”

“Wow.” Charlie said, bewildered. “_That’s _you’re reasoning?”

“It makes sense.” Blaine added.

“Okay. What if it does? Now what?” Charlie asked.

Dr. Andrews and Blaine responded by taking the dresser opposite Liz’s door, and sliding it across the floor, barricading the door.

“It’ll be impossible for her to leave her room without making noise now.” Dr. Andrews said, triumphant.

“Real mature.” Charlie said sarcastically.

“You have to admit that the theory is sound.” Dr. Andrews said.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “For the most part, maybe.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked.

“Well, it is a pretty solid theory, but it can be shattered with just one question.”

“And that is?”

“What if it turns out _I _am Mr. Owen?” Charlie asked.

Doctor Andrews chuckled. “Cute.” He said. Charlie rolled his eyes.

Blaine picked up his flashlight. “Unless there’s anything else to be said, I’m going to bed.”

Charlie and the Doctor followed suit and opened the doors to their bedrooms.

“All the same.” The Doctor said. “I don’t think I need to suggest either of you to lock your doors.”

“And if you have a chair in your bedroom…” Blaine added. “Put it under the handle. It doesn’t take a degree in engineering to pick a lock from the outside.”

Charlie leaned his head out into the hallway and looked in Blaine’s direction as he said, “I’m sure it’s good to know these things, especially when you’re in a neighborhood that favors domestic terrorism.”

And before Blaine could protest, Charlie slammed his door shut.

Cursing under his breath, Blaine slammed his door and locked it tight, before taking the chair and sliding it under his handle like he originally suggested. Turning around, his eyes immediately focused on the gun that lay on his bed.

Moving forward to pick it up, he checked the ammo clip.

There was one bullet missing.

*****

Charlie peeked through his window. He still couldn’t see the horizon of the mainland through the thick downpour. Any attempt at making a signal would be useless.

Still, he couldn’t just sit in his room and do nothing. So he decided to do something. The one thing that he knew he could do with full conviction in his heart.

He grabbed his gun and flashlight from the nightstand, took off his shoes, and crept outside of his bedroom.

Entering the hallway, he waited a full minute to make sure no one else stirred in their rooms, before making his way to the door that led to Miss Beauregard’s room.

*****

Liz sat in a fetal position with her back against the door, hugging a pillow as tightly as she can. Her pillow was wet with stains of tears and mascara. This nightmare never seemed to end for her.

If she were being completely honest with herself, she would wish deep down that Mr. Owen would come into her room and do away with her next. It would end her suffering.

Maybe Senator McCreevy was onto something. Maybe it is peaceful in the end. Maybe the Senator embraced his death with open arms.

Just then, the door handle to her bathroom slowly turned.

Liz shot up from where she was sitting as her heart plummeted to the ground. She grabbed her flashlight and shone it at the door.

But from behind the door, came a white handkerchief. The hand holding it, waved it up and down, causing Liz to lower her guard.

The handkerchief pulled away.

In its place, crept out the butt end of Charlie’s gun. The hand holding it wiggled once more, prompting Liz to move forward.

Hesitantly, Liz reached up and took the gun from Charlie’s hand, as she pulled open the door.

“I thought you could use it.” Charlie whispered.

“Why?” Liz questioned.

“Because blocking your door like that makes things a little too easy for Mr. Owen. So it’s either Blaine, or Andrews. I wanted to make sure you’re protected before either one of them comes in the way _I _did.” Charlie explained.

“Anyway…” he said, before returning back to the bathroom. “Make sure you block this door too.”

But before he could get far, Liz grabbed him by the wrist, causing him to stop.

“Stay with me. Please?!” She pleaded.

Charlie looked into Liz’s eyes, and his heart caved. Nodding, he closed the door to the bathroom and locked it, before following her to the bed.

When he sat down on the bed, Liz climbed in and wrapped his arms around him, tighter than she’s ever held him before.

“I’m sorry about before…” she whispered.

“About what?” Charlie asked.

“When I said I didn’t know any of you.”

Charlie smiled. “Hey, you’ve been sticking to my cover and I really appreciate that.”

“I know. It just felt so wrong saying it. I mean…I’ve known you for so many years. I didn’t want to say it because I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Hey. What matters is I’m here.” Charlie reassured.

Liz offered a light smile. “You know what the funny thing is? I was really hoping to meet up with you again. I just never thought this would be the reunion.”

“Like a Wes Anderson movie?” Charlie asked teasingly.

Liz chuckled. “Exactly.”

“Can I ask why, though? I mean…we haven’t seen each other ever since graduation. And we’ve both been so caught up in our own lives.”

“I don’t know.” Liz said. “I guess…I never stopped liking you.”

This caused Charlie to feel butterflies in his stomach. Instinctively, he pressed a kiss on the top of Liz’s head.

“In a weird, sick and twisted sort of way, I’m glad that Philip Lockard chose to kill himself. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be hearing exactly what I needed to hear.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve never stopped liking you either.”

Liz nuzzled her head against Charlie’s chest. “And we were both too chicken to ask each other to the prom.”

“Yeah.” Charlie said softly.

“But…” Liz continued, her heartbeat increasing. “At least now, I’m right where I wanted our prom night to end…”

Charlie inched back to look into Liz’s eyes.

“You mean that?” he asked.

Liz responded by reaching up to Charlie’s face and kissing his lips.

Charlie in turn cupped Liz’s cheek as he returned the kiss.

Liz then grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him towards her, until he was hovering over her.

*****

Morley’s face was pressed against his window as he dozed off, having received no signal after sending his own.

The blaring ringtone of his cellphone woke him up and set him on alert as he answered the call.

“Morley. Go ahead.”

_“Morley, it’s Taverner. You still awake?”_

“Defending the Alamo on that one. Talk to me.”

_“Okay well you’re not going to believe this.”_

“Ding, ding, ding!” Morley said with mock-enthusiasm. “That’s the 100th time it’s been said, or at least thought.”

_“Fair enough. But anyway, I was finally able to get in touch with the Narracott brothers. Remember that ‘family emergency’ they had to go to, leaving behind Maine’s only source of extraction rendered inactive?”_

“Yes?”

_“It was a ruse. There was no emergency. They were contacted by an unknown number yesterday evening.”_

“Who?”

_“Who do you think?”_

“Ian Morris?”

_“Bingo!”_

“But…how?”

_“The coroner checked the body temperature and puts Morris’s time of death at around 3:00am. Making the bogus call must’ve been the last thing on Morris’s agenda for U.N. Owen…or, for a little literacy liberty, ‘Unknown’.” _

“But why didn’t they just return to the dock as soon as they realized there was no emergency?”

_“They did. Or at least they tried. Before they could get very far on their way back, all four of their tires blew out.”_

“What the fuck?!”

_“All four tires had thumbtacks pressed into them. So whoever Owen is, he’s thought of everything. He must’ve placed the thumbtacks right in front of each tire before taking the ferry with the others.” _

“Man…tough break all around.”

_“My thoughts exactly. The good news is we’re all on our way over. We’ll meet up with you at your hotel and figure out how to move forward.” _

“What about getting to the island? That’s kind of important right now!”

_“What’s the weather like over there?”_

Morley looked through his window. After a flash of lightning, his whole room shook from the loud clap of thunder.

_“I guess that’s my answer.”_

“You heard that too?”

_“Unfortunately, even if we had the County on our side, we need for wait for the rain to at least calm down. But we are coming.”_

“Well…at least there’s an effort being made. This whole sitting around while God knows what’s going on is driving me nuts.”

_“Remind me not to team up with you during stakeout missions!”_

“Very funny. Just let me know when you’re all here.”

_“Will do.”_

*****

Charlie and Elizabeth laid in her bed, both staring at the ceiling. Their clothes were all across the floor.

Liz laid her head on Charlie’s chest, and wrapped her arm around him once more.

Charlie caressed the back of her head.

“Do you think we’ll both make it off this island?” She asked.

“Of course we will. It’s gotta be one of them.”

“But what happens after this?” Liz sat up. “The Judge was right. The police _will_ be involved.”

“I will handle what I can. My team is covering this whole thing.” Charlie explained.

“But what if they investigate…you know.” Liz insisted.

Charlie sat up and leaned his back against the headboard, to look at Liz.

“Liz. We both know how we feel about each other. We can trust each other. But now I need you to be completely honest with me.” Charlie said.

Liz slowly nodded.

“Are you telling me the complete truth about not being the one who killed Barclay?”

She nodded once more.

“Then why were you being so evasive about the subject?”

“Because I still don’t want the police to open this case back up again.” Liz said.

“Are you worried about your social media following?” Charlie asked.

Liz shook her head this time.

And then, quite suddenly, realization hit Charlie, and his eyes grew sad.

“He was killed, and you were suspected?”

Liz’s eyes grew watery. “No.” She said, wiping a tear from her eye. “He was driven to suicide. But I took the blame.”

Charlie used his hand to wipe away the other tear. “Took the blame for what? Why not tell them he—”

“My sister was responsible.” Liz said.

Charlie’s heart sank. “Oh…” he muttered. “I remember her. Jessica, right? The one with…”

Liz nodded. “She’s bi-polar.” She explained. “One night when she was _really_ unstable, she broke up with him over text. She told him she wanted nothing to do with him anymore. It really devastated him. He was in love with her. And when he was found in his apartment dead from a drug overdose, the police traced the texts back. I told the police that CJ was being abusive to Jessica. So I took the phone from her and ended things.”

“But why take the blame in the first place?”

“Because I don’t want my little sister to end up in an institution. We’ve tried everything to help make her better. Therapy. Meds. Everything. But it would tear her apart if we resorted to having her in a straitjacket. We just can’t do that to her—”

“Shh!” Charlie interrupted. “Listen!” he whispered.

Liz remained silent.

Just outside her bedroom door, the two of them could hear footsteps. Charlie bolted from the bed and took the gun from the nightstand and handed it to Liz.

“Aim it at the bathroom. Let me tackle him first though.” He said, finding his jeans and putting them on quickly.

They sat in silence. The footsteps did not sound like they were coming any closer.

In fact…they seemed to be going away.

Taking the moment to breath, Charlie found the rest of his clothes and quickly got dressed. Liz got up to put her bathrobe on.

“Come on.” Charlie said. “Whoever’s not in their room is Mr. Owen. Once and for all!”

*****

Exiting Miss Beauregard’s room, Charlie and Liz checked the hallway. Seeing no one else in sight, they looked at each other.

“Right. You check the Doctor’s room. I’ll check on Blaine. No point in being discreet anymore.” Charlie said.

“Okay.” Liz said, before reaching up to kiss Charlie on the mouth. “Just be careful.”

“You too.” Charlie said.

And at that moment, Charlie ran over to Blaine’s door, and Liz sprinted to Andrews’ door, and they both pounded long and hard on the doors.

“Blaine! Blaine! Get up!”

“Doctor! Doctor Andrews!”

Almost immediately, Blaine yanked open his door, gun in hand.

“What the fuck’s going on?!” Blaine demanded.

“He’s not answering!” Liz called out.

“What the—” Blaine asked, glaring at Liz. “Who let her out?!”

Charlie ignored him and rushed over to where Liz was. “Dr. Andrews! Open the door!” he called out.

No answer.

“I’ll check the door. Cover me!” Charlie said to Liz.

“Wait, why does _she _have your gun?!” Blaine asked.

Again, Charlie didn’t respond. He opened the door to the Doctor’s room, to find it empty.

“He’s not here. He’s trying to make a run for it!” Charlie said.

“You sure?”

“We heard him head down the stairs. Come on! We can get him!” Charlie said, leading Liz and Blaine to follow down the stairs.

*****

The front door was left wide open.

“Think he’d make a swim for it?” Blaine asked.

“The weather’s still pretty bad. I don’t know if he’d last long treading the water.” Charlie said.

“Guys. Look.” Liz said, pointing at the foyer table.

Blaine and Charlie turned around and looked at the remaining china figures.

There were three left.


	9. THREE!

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Three Little Soldier Boys Walking in the Zoo; A Big Bear Hugged One, And Then There Were Two**

After what felt like an eternity, the sun had finally peaked over the horizon. The rain had stopped, and clouds were beginning to part ways.

Even inside the house, the mood appeared to have brightened as well. The three remaining occupants were no longer suspicious of each other.

Charlie and Elizabeth decided to share the same bed. There were no more harbored feelings, and no sense of pretending in front of Blaine. There were bigger fish to fry.

As of last night, there was no trace of Doctor Colin Andrews. The missing china figure threw them off. But now that they all had some sleep, they began to compose themselves, and make a thorough search.

There was a knock upon the door.

“It’s Blaine.”

Charlie got up. Liz sat up and offered him his gun.

“It’s okay. We can trust each other now.” Charlie said, before walking to the door.

“What’s up?” he asked Blaine.

“First of all…” Blaine began before calling out. “Miss Callahan? You alright in there?”

“Yeah I’m still here.” Liz answered.

Charlie gave Blaine an annoyed look.

“Can’t be too careful.” Blaine defended.

“Fair enough. What did you want?” Charlie asked.

“Well, I just wanted to let you know. While you were sleeping…at least I hope…I got up and did a 360 on the island, once I knew it stopped raining.”

“Whoa, whoa! You went out by yourself?”

Blaine opened his jacket, revealing his concealed gun. “It’ll take a lot to send me off my head. Anyway, I checked the island.”

“And…?”

“Still no sign of him. And it wouldn’t make much sense for him to make a swim for it to the mainland. He’d be held for questioning since one simply does not swim from one shoreline to another unless they’re in their bathing suits.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, back to my original point: I looked around, and it dawned on me.”

“What did?”

“The antenna. The one that’s off the side of the house. What if Dr. Andrews had instructed Romero to switch it off, and to simply _say_ that it hasn’t been installed yet?”

“Well what good would it be to us now? The generator’s run out of juice.” Charlie added.

“That’s what I thought too. Until I got closer. I could hear humming from the electrical panel from the antenna.”

Liz covered herself in her bed sheets as she sat up. “Then the antenna must run on power adjacent to the house?”

“Maybe.” Charlie said, pulling out his phone to turn it on. When the screen came on, he checked his signal.

“No, there’s still no signal. Why are you bringing this up exactly?” he asked Blaine.

“Because I took a closer look, and found out _why _the tower is running, but not working.”

“Why?”

“That motherfucker planted a radio jammer on that thing!”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Wow. He’s thought of everything.”

“Even going so far as to take the china figure with him.” Liz mentioned.

“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

“He wants us to _think _he’s dead. He wants us to think he swam out in the middle of the night and deliberately drowned himself in the swollen water, in order to satisfy that line in the Ten Little Soldier Boys rhyme.”

“Yeah…?” Blaine prodded.

“But the line is ‘_a red herring swallowed one_’. Red Herring. It’s a plot device. So he’s not really dead.”

“Damn, that’s some good thinking!” Blaine said. “Anyway, what’s the next line of the rhyme. Do you remember?”

“Three little soldier boys walking in the zoo; a big bear hugged one, and then there were two.” Charlie recited.

“Ha! Joke’s on him! This may be Pennsylvania, but there’s not a single bear on this damn island. And they’d never make it this far by swimming across from the mainland!”

“Well…” Charlie said hesitantly. “We also thought the same thing about bumblebees, and yet Dr. Andrews was able to satisfy that line with the epi-pen. I’m pretty sure he’ll find a way, now especially if he suspects we’re onto him.”

“Whatever.” Blaine shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know about the antenna business. I’m gonna go and see if I can disable the radio jammer.”

“You know anything about electrical appliances of that magnitude?” Charlie asked.

“I just need to disable the jammer. I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you guys down in the foyer when I’m done?”

Charlie sighed. “Okay. We won’t be long.”

And with that, Charlie closed the door.

“You know, while we’re at it, you think we should pack our bags? I mean, there’s no reason for any boat not to come now, right?” Liz asked.

“Yeah I guess so. But let’s make it quick. Blaine will be waiting.” Charlie said, putting on his clothes, kissing Liz, and exiting the room.

*****

Lieutenant Legge pulled into the parking lot of the ferry docks. The rest of the squad put on their bullet-proof vests and checked their weapons.

Taverner hung up his cellphone. “Okay, that was Narracott. They’ll be here in one hour.”

“God knows what’s happening on that island. Maine hasn’t checked in once since his last report.” Legge said.

“Can’t we get the local authorities to get a boat out there?” Hayward asked.

Legge shook his head. “Nah, prior to this, the house used to be filled with partygoers. The rambunctious type. And after so many prank calls and complaints, the locals decided to just ignore it. So to them, it’s just another weekend.”

“Great.” Morley said sarcastically.

*****

Charlie waited by the foot of the stairs. He was holding his cellphone in his hands, waiting for Liz to come down.

To his surprise, she emerged from the Kitchen with a couple of unopened bags of crackers.

“Wouldn’t hurt.” Liz said, offering one to Charlie.

“Thanks.” Charlie said, smiling as he took a bag and opened it.

Liz sat down next to Charlie as she opened her bag. They sat in silence for another minute before he finally spoke up.

“So…I guess now comes the infamous three words that always take place at this time in the morning.”

“Oh?” Liz asked, intrigued. “And what are those three words?”

“About last night…” Charlie smiled.

Laughing, Liz shoved Charlie on the arm. “Very funny.”

“No, but seriously though. Was it…I mean…did it—”

“Yes, Mister Lockard, you were great. Was I?” Liz asked.

“Oh, sensational!” Charlie said, almost too quickly, causing Liz to blush. “I mean…yeah so, last night was definitely worth it.”

“I concur.”

“But…that’s only part of what I was gonna ask.” Charlie continued. “I don’t know…it’s been bugging me since this morning.”

“What’s wrong?” Liz asked, rubbing his back.

“Liz…do you think it only happened because we’re both going through a night of trauma and horror?”

Liz looked up at Charlie and wrapped her arm around his. “I honestly don’t think so.” She said. “I mean, the circumstances have definitely pushed us towards it. But…I wouldn’t have minded if we kind of…went in that direction if there was no trauma to begin with.”

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “I feel like we _needed_ this hellish weekend, in order to move in that direction. There was no way I would’ve known that you liked me this way, and there was certainly no way I would’ve had the guts to say that I liked you this way.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Liz admitted. “But hey. What matters is the present. _My _take on the three infamous words is: what happens now?”

“Well…I guess our most logical option, is to see where this goes?”

“I’m fine with that idea. But…maybe a movie, or an insanely crowded theater? I don’t think I could ever do an island weekend ever again!”

Charlie laughed. “Fair enough.”

Liz responded by snuggling up closer to Charlie. About another couple of minutes of silence ticked by.

“Wait...I just realized something." Liz said.

"Yeah?"

"Blaine said he had his gun. When the Judge was shot last night, Blaine said his gun was still missing."

Charlie's eyes widened. "That son of a bitch!" He exclaimed. "He's been playing us this whole time!"

"For all we know, he could've killed the Doctor before we even knew he was missing! And now he's trying to lure us into a sense of safety!" 

“Like hell he is!" Charlie said, standing up. "Let's go find him!" 

He helped Liz up as they crossed the foyer to the front door.

But as they were stepping out onto the terrace, Charlie stopped in his tracks, causing Liz to turn back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I could’ve sworn…” Charlie said, taking a few steps back into the house, and looking up at the inside of the front door.

“Wasn’t there a large stuffed animal head mounted up there?” Charlie asked, pointing up at the wall.

“You know? I never noticed.” Liz said.

“There was. There definitely was. I think it was a…a moose, or a deer…or…”

“…or a bear?!” Liz said, realizing where he was going with this.

The two of them looked at each other, and then slowly, turned their heads in synchronization, to face the table…

…where only two remaining china figures stood.


	10. TWO!

**CHAPTER NINE: Two Little Soldier Boys Sitting in the Sun; One Got Frizzled Up, And Then There Was One**

Blaine lay crumpled against the foundation of the antenna. His skull was fractured, and there were several bloodstained rocks all around him.

As soon as Charlie and Liz ran to find him, they looked up at the antenna and immediately saw what they figured was the source of death.

The big plaque with the bear’s head was strung up high on the metal framing of the antenna.

Charlie bent down to pick up one of the blood stained rocks.

“Andrews must’ve…strung this up last night, before we went looking for him.”

“But…the rocks?”

“He must’ve lodged the rocks into the bear’s open mouth, and if Blaine was struggling with the radio jammer, some of the rocks must’ve fallen loose.”

“…and then there were two.” Liz muttered.

Charlie looked at her. “So you were right all along. It really was the Doctor.”

“And now he’s going to try and kill us together!” Liz panicked.

“The hell he is. You still have my gun?” Charlie asked.

Liz reached into her pocket and held it tight.

“Good.” He said, before bending down, reaching into Blaine’s jacket, and pulling out his gun.

“Now we’re both safe.”

“I’m still scared.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Liz. We’re together now. He can’t get us if he doesn’t separate us. Okay?”

“…okay.”

Charlie nodded, and then turned his attention back to the radio jammer.

“Maybe there’s a way to switch it off?”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“That nursery rhyme! This could be a double-kill!”

“How?”

“Two little Soldier Boys sitting in the sun; one got frizzled up and then there was one!”

Charlie did a double take on the radio jammer.

“Shit…” he muttered. “Good thinking.” He then responded by picking up a small rock nearby, and throwing it directly at the jammer, causing it to shoot sparks from the damage.

“Think it worked?” he asked.

Just then, Liz felt a vibration in her pocket. Eyes widening, she reached inside and took out her cellphone.

“I have two missed calls.” She said.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Charlie took out his phone.

*****

Legge, Hayward, Morley, and Taverner all sat at the dock, pacing back and forth as they waited for the Narracott brothers, or the County Sheriff with a Zodiac boat, to come by and take them all to the island.

Just then, Legge’s phone vibrated. Seeing the Caller ID, his brows furrowed in confusion as he answered.

“Maine?”

_“Oh Boss! Thank fucking God!”_

“Maine? What’s going on?!” Legge demanded.

The other cops stopped and stared as Legge took his call.

_“Boss! We need you here now! There’s a serial killer on this island!”_

“Wait, how were you able to get a signal?”

_“It was a radio jammer. That fucker thought of everything! He’s killed everyone else on this island except for one individual. She’s safe, she’s with me! But we have to get the fuck off this island now!”_

“Okay, calm down! We’re at the docks already. We’re just waiting on the Narracotts to get here.

_“There’s no way you can get here now?!” _

“Son believe me. I am just as pissed off about this as you. But right now we don’t have many options. Just head over to where the boat will pick you guys up, and we’ll get you out of there ASAP.”

_“Okay. The killer’s name is Doctor Colin Andrews. He’s killed everyone else here between when I last spoke to Morley, and just a few fucking minutes ago! Please fucking hurry!”_

“Just get to the spot where we’ll come get you. Stay alert and stay on the shoreline. Hayward’s got his binoculars. He’ll keep an eye on you two!”

_“Okay. We’ll meet you there. Please hurry!” _

“We will, son.” Legge said before hanging up.

“Well?” Taverner asked.

“Who knows how to hot-wire a boat?” Legge asked.

*****

Charlie and Liz rushed down to the shoreline over by where the dock was. They pressed their backs against each other, to make sure that neither one was going to be ambushed from behind.

As they waited, they slowly rotated continuously, hearts beating at a hundred miles per hour.

“It’s okay.” Charlie said, panting from the run to the shore. “It’ll be impossible for him to get us from here…out in the open.”

“I still don’t like how we can’t see him. But for all we know, he’s somewhere, watching…waiting.”

“Nerves are kicking in, Liz.” Charlie said. “Just keep calm. Remember, we have each other’s backs now.”

“Right. Right…” Liz said to herself. “So…know any good movies coming out?” She asked, light-heartedly.

“Uh…not really. Haven’t been to a movie since the Mary Poppins sequel.”

“You know what? We can always Netflix at one of our places. Providing we lock every door and window.”

“Lizzie, I love your thinking!” Charlie laughed out loud.

“I do my best.” Liz smiled.

It was at this moment, that Charlie stopped rotating. His direction was facing the water, and Liz was facing the trees.

“Why did you stop?” Liz asked.

Charlie did not answer. Instead, he slowly walked towards the waterline.

“Charlie?” Liz asked, growing concerned.

“Liz…get over here.” Charlie ordered, his tone taking a complete 180.

“What? Why? What if he comes as soon as our backs are—”

“He won’t.” Charlie said, his heart sinking. “He’s not up there.”

Liz turned around and looked in the direction that Charlie was looking.

Charlie began to walk into the water, placing Blaine’s gun on the dock. Liz placed Charlie’s gun next to it. Crouching down in the water, he began to shift his arms back and forth. Liz couldn’t see why.

Then, quite suddenly, a body came floating up from under the water, causing Liz to scream in horror.

It was the body of Doctor Andrews.


	11. ONE!

**CHAPTER TEN: One Little Soldier Boy Left All Alone; He Went and Hanged Himself, And Then There Were None (ORIGINAL ENDING)**

“He’s…he’s been dead for hours.” Charlie said, his voice growing somber.

Liz’s eyes widened. “How do you know?” She asked.

“The muck from the water.” Charlie explained. “It wasn’t kicked up until just now when I stepped in. He was buried underneath some of these rocks.”

That’s when Liz heard it. Something in Charlie’s voice. Something changed. The same man she had made love to earlier seemed distant…cold…untrusting…untrustworthy.

Liz’s breathing became rapid. Her mind began to race. She knew the kind of tone Charlie was taking.

“Well…” she began quickly. “Maybe…maybe Blaine drowned him and buried him under the rocks. He did say that he went to search for him. He could’ve done it then.”

Charlie stood up and glared at her. “And then I suppose Blaine forgot about the trap that he set up? Or better yet, he planted that trap there to kill himself, having just turned suicidal?!”

“Okay…okay…” Liz said, her hands shaking. “Well…maybe the Doctor set the trap for Blaine—”

“Liz! Wake up!” Charlie shouted, scaring Liz. “There is no one else alive on this island!” He exclaimed, his eyes growing watery. “No one. Except the two of us!

Liz looked into Charlie’s glaring eyes. The sudden change in his behavior startled her. It made her question everything.

“Damnit, Liz. I trusted you! And now…after everything?!” Charlie asked, his voice cracking.

And then suddenly, the two of them looked at the guns, then back at each other.

In a flash, Liz grabbed one gun, and Charlie grabbed the other. They aimed at each other.

“Don’t come any closer!” Liz exclaimed.

Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Liz…just put the gun down. You can still walk away from this!” He said, lowering his other hand to a less violent position.

“Don’t fucking do that, Charlie! You’re the one that gave me a gun. This is on you just as much as it’s on me!” Liz said.

“Remember, Liz…” Charlie insisted. “This isn’t how that nursery rhyme goes. It doesn’t add up!”

“Stop it!” Liz demanded. “Just stop!”

“Why?” Charlie asked. “Because I’m right? Let’s be real here. I am a cop. It’s in the job description that I might die in the line of duty. But I will be damned if I die in someone else’s place. Imagine, if Philip Lockard were here!”

“That just explains everything so nicely!” Liz said, back away from the dock. “If what you said about Lockard being dead is true, then it’s obvious that you’re Mr. Owen! I only have your word that Lockard committed suicide! How do I know you didn't kill him instead?!”

Charlie’s brows furrowed.

“What did you say?” he asked.

Liz tightened her grip on her gun. “I said that I only have _your_ word that Lockard committed suicide. But for all I know, you could’ve killed him yourself! And when the rest of your squad showed up, you let them believe Lockard killed himself.” She said.

Charlie shook his head. “And what about the email? I suppose you’re gonna say that I crafted the email, bought a second gun, broke into his apartment, shot him in the head, left the note on the table, and placed the second gun in his hand, removing my fingerprints?” He asked incredulously.

“And now you’re here to finish the job!” Liz finished for him. “It adds up, Charlie. These are all cases that the law couldn’t touch. So you took the law into your own hands!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Liz! You really think I want to go on a killing spree out of justice?! I didn’t even _know_ any of the others! I was only after Lockard! I didn’t even know about the email…”

Charlie froze. He realized he said too much.

Liz nudged her gun. “Yes?” She muttered.

Charlie’s nostrils flared. “Don’t pull rank on me! I was following orders. I’m here on an undercover assignment. I was sent by the NYPD to find out what Owen knew.”

“But I thought you said Lockard wasn’t moved by those twenty-one men he killed.”

“He wasn’t.”

“So why did he commit suicide?”

“I…I don’t know!” Charlie said, his voice shaking.

“I think you _do _know, and you’re not telling me!” Liz said back. “You know what else I think? I think that Lockard couldn’t have possibly turned suicidal all of a sudden. From what you’ve told me, he was self-absorbed. And those twenty-one men meant nothing to him. Why should this one email change his entire perspective?!”

“Stop it, Liz!”

“And didn’t you say that Lockard rigged the paperwork so that the building collapse would be on the city’s hands, and not his own?”

“What’s your point?”

“And if Lockard was able to evade prosecution for this long, it would make the city look _really _bad, wouldn’t it?”

“He’s been giving _everybody_ a bad name, Liz. What would you do?”

“Oh like the NYPD wasn’t having a bad name as it was.” Liz said sarcastically. “Where’s your Mayor’s support? If Lockard was able to get away with his crime for this long, who’s to say that he won’t get away scot-free in court? You think the City can hold their own against someone like him?”

“Liz, I’m warning you!”

“It really pissed you off, didn’t it? Giving your all to a city that got itself into this mess by screwing Lockard over the land purchase, and then gets blamed for a botched shelter plan? The NYPD must really be slipping for this case to remain open for so long. I mean, let’s be real, Charlie. If I were working for them, I wouldn’t want to sit around and do nothing. I would take action.”

Gun shaking in hand, Charlie muttered a curse under his breath.

“Everything pointed to Lockard. There’s no way he was innocent. If he was taken into custody, he’d find a way to get back out. The Department’s gotten sloppy They weren’t doing anything. So I went to his apartment ahead of time. I went there to confront Lockard on my own. But it ended in a struggle, and his gun went off.”

“Into his own head?!” Liz challenged. “Maybe Doctor Andrews really did bury himself under these rocks. Maybe Blaine really did set that trap for himself.”

“Just give it up, Liz! There’s no other explanation!” Charlie insisted. “The police are on their way as we speak! Just put the gun down!”

“You first!” Liz pleaded.

Charlie’s hand began shaking. “I’m sorry…” he said softly. “I can’t do that.”

*

Legge and his team were startled by the sound of a gunshot coming from the island.

Crouching, Hayward shouted. “Shots have been fired! I repeat, shots have been fired!”

The rest of the men looked over in the direction of the parking lot entrance.

“Where the fuck are they?!” Legge demanded.

*

Liz looked at the body that started floating in the water next to the dead Doctor. She then looked up at the mainland and saw flashing lights of red and blue.

Heart plummeting to her chest, she backed out of the water and immediately ran back up to the house.

When she got to the front door, she slammed it shut and locked it tight, like a cornered mouse pursued by an army of cats.

She then eyed the last remaining china figure that stood on the table. Screaming in agony, she went to the table, picked it up and threw it across the room, letting it smash against a wall and shatter into a dozen pieces.

She then examined the gun in her hand, and threw that across the room as well, causing it to land on the top of the stairs.

Covering her face in panic, she walked into the Lounge. Finally catching her breath, she lifted her head, and stopped moving.

In front of her, dangling in the middle of the whole room, was a noose. And a chair sat right underneath.

Suddenly, the tv hanging over the bar turned on, startling Liz.

The channel was set to a breaking news story.

“…thanks Jim. In the world of Instagram, it seems that big time cosmetics influencer Elizabeth Callahan, of the username @CallahanCosmetics has been exposed as the anonymous person responsible for the apparent suicide of her sister’s boyfriend, C.J. Barclay. The influencer, who has over 2.5 million followers on Instagram, was said to have created several fake accounts, and committed several acts of online bullying targeted against Barclay, in addition to acting from her own sister’s account, posing as the latter to break up with her boyfriend. As this was revealed, a lot of her fans were not happy with the news.”

“I really looked up to her…and she let me down. She let all of us down.”

“I thought that she was different from all of these other social media gurus. But they’re all one and the same. They’re nothing but heartless cash-grabs. I’ve told all of my friends to unfollow and block her.”

“I honestly think she should be sent to life for what she did. It’s just inexcusable.”

“…and as we’ve pulled people aside for their feedback, already, Miss Callahan’s social media following was decreasing by the minute. As of right now, she is down to a little over 13,000 followers. Such a heavy drop. We’ll have more on this as it unfolds.”

Liz’s face was wet with tears. No one would believe her. Especially now, when the police take her off the island in handcuffs, having been surrounded by nine corpses. They’ll never believe her now. She’s ruined.

Looking back at the noose, she immediately decided what to do.

With trembling legs, she stood on the chair as she wrapped the noose around her leg.

“One little Soldier Boy left all alone…” she thought to herself.

She then pushed forward her leg to kick the chair away.

*

The front doors burst open.

“POLICE! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!” Taverner shouted.

Charlie’s squad breached the foyer and moved about the ground floor.

Legge and Hayward entered the Lounge and stopped in their tracks.

In front of them, in the middle of the room, Elizabeth’s limp body was swinging ever so slightly.


	12. The Investigation (Original Ending)

**Monday, August 12th**

Legge entered the Precinct briefing room.

Taverner, Hayward, and Morley were all seated, with a somber expression.

“Alright people.” Legge said, calling for everyone’s attention. “First of all, I think we should start off this meeting by holding a moment of silence for Sgt. Charles Maine, who fell in the line of duty yesterday morning. The memorial services will be held tomorrow morning.”

Everyone bowed their heads in silence.

After several moments, Legge cleared his throat.

“Okay. Those who weren’t involved in the case, here’s the gist of what happened this past weekend: Hayward, Taverner, Morley and I arrived at that island and found ten bodies; all in cold blood, but as of right now, we’re unable to figure out who the perpetrator was. We tried as best as we could to piece together the case with what we were able to gather from _our _end of the investigation. Whatever evidence Maine was able to gather, has unfortunately died with him. Here’s what we know so far…”

Legge then moved to the corkboard in front of the room and began taking headshots and pinning them on the board.

“These are the subjects of interest. Both Maine, and Chief Justice Westbrook died from GSWs. Sergeant Lamar Blaine’s skull was smashed in, by we assume to be several rocks that were around his body. Social Media Guru Elizabeth Callahan was found hanging in the Lounge. Doctor Andrews’s body was floating in the water, over by where Maine’s body was found. Andrew’s body was partially held down by several rocks. YouTuber Aidan Marshall’s mouth had residue of peanut dust, and his neck showed signs of swelling, so we can only assume that he suffered a peanut allergy. Eleanor Beauregard’s digestive system showed signs of potassium cyanide. The back of Senator Gordon McCreevy’s head was bashed in by a sharp object. Jose Romero’s back received a machete wound, and his wife Isabel Romero’s autopsy revealed an overdose of sleeping pills. Questions so far?”

Hayward raised his hand.

“Sir? Are we absolutely certain that _no one _else was on that island? That no one could’ve attempted to get to the island by themselves, and then escape the same way?”

“The weather was too dangerous for swimmers. And according to the marina services, no boats had gone out this past weekend. None except the Narracott ferry on the day in question, Friday the 9th.”

“So…it had to have been one of the ten?” Morley asked.

“It sounds implausible. But I don’t see any other options.” Legge continued as he went to the white board and began drawing diagrams. “But let’s put together what we were able to gather: The Person of Interest, is an unidentified individual who refers to himself as U.N. Owen. His associate is the deceased Ian Morris, who died from an apparent OD around the night of the 9th. It's safe to say that he was silenced after playing his part in the grand scheme of things. Morris was careful to cover his tracks.

"We can therefore conclude that he and the _real _Philip Lockard have crossed paths before, and thus Lockard picked up a thing or two about covering tracks."

Legge then turned to Hayward.

“Sergeant Hayward. Were you able to look into the matter of the script in question?”

Hayward stood up and cleared his throat, gathering documents from his manila envelope and stood next to Legge.

“The script, read by an amateur voice actor, accuses each of the ten individuals of being responsible for the death of others. It addresses each of them by name, and the names of their ‘victims’.

“The accusations were arranged in the order that they had occurred, starting with that of Senator McCreevy. We tracked down the fiancé of the victim, and asked her a couple of questions. While admitting to the affair, she was unable to confirm if he was in fact responsible for the death of Harrison Richards. However, we questioned McCreevy’s IT department, and they did admit to erasing evidence of McCreevy’s involvement with sending Richards to that hostile territory. Senator McCreevy was not prosecuted for the matter, because he had political influence.

“Next, we have Doctor Colin Andrews. He was in the running for the position of Residency Director at the Providence Memorial Hospital in El Paso, Texas. The victim in question was a patient of his, Georgina Schmidt. She was due for an emergency procedure. He claimed to be out of town that day, and unable to operate on her. However, the Board of Medicine told a very different story. Let’s just say, he won the role of Residency Director by following hospital policy. He denied treatment to an uninsured patient.

“Next, we have the other cop Lamar Blaine. _Ex_-Cop, I should say. He gave up his commission when it was suggested that he deliberately detained the victim Kevin Lee in order to release him to the Antifa Movement, causing the latter’s death. Blaine kept himself from the viral videos that get posted on Twitter concerning the recent Antifa attacks. The Police Department was sure of it, but they couldn’t prove it.

“Then we come to Chief Justice Leonard Westbrook. Now, I will admit that this particular case is baffling, because as it turns out, Aziz Al-Khaled was in fact guilty. Westbrook was set on giving the death penalty. After Al-Khaled’s execution, there was more evidence that turned up, that solidified his guilt even further. But there was a lot of controversy and criticism towards Westbrook’s judgement and eventual sentencing.

“Principal Eleanor Beauregard faced backlash from Brittany Thompson’s parents, for expelling their daughter from her school. There was speculation to Miss Thompson’s sexual preference, but the official school record stated that she had behaved inappropriately in general. The parents were certain it was because their daughter was homosexual, but none of Miss Thompson’s classmates confirmed that that was the case, so we only have the school’s records to go on.

“Then we have the case that got us involved in this whole affair; Philip Lockard. He accepted the city’s check and signed over rights of the property in question. He was able to do so in a way whereas if the building were to collapse, it would be on the city’s hands, not his.

“The police report involving Elizabeth Callahan’s account of the death of C.J. Barclay, conflicts with the news story that was playing on the television monitor in the Lounge, where Miss Callahan’s body was found hanging.”

Taverner raised his hand.

“Yes?” Legge motioned for him to speak up.

“We looked into the matter of that news story. It’s obviously fake. The news anchor giving the story, was the same actor who provided the voice-over for the allegations. But the way it was filmed and edited; it could’ve fooled me.”

“So it is conceivable…” Hayward continued. “That either the stress of being on the island with a serial killer, or the belief in the authenticity of the news story, could be what caused Elizabeth to hang herself.

“Moving on, there’s the matter of Aidan Marshall and his hit-and-run that killed Gary and Linda Fowler. He was able to avoid jail-time because one of his fans from YouTube posted an online petition covering his bail money. He had enough support that he was able to avoid prosecution, and only received a slap on the wrist.

“And lastly, we have the issue concerning Mr. and Mrs. Romero, and their elderly neighbor that they were looking after, Marion Clark. We did a cross check reference, and as it turns out, there were three other similar cases that match their M.O. but they all took place in sanctuary cities, as there was question to the Romeros’ status of citizenship in this country.”

Hayward finished and returned to his seat.

Morley leaned forward. “So…these were all cases that occurred out of the reach of the law?”

Legge nodded. “That seems to be the most logical motive, Sergeant Morley. Whoever the murderer was, they determined to carry out justice that did not reach these ten individuals. Now the question we ask ourselves is: who?”

Morley raised his hand once more. Legge pointed to him.

"Having heard all of their accusations, and the facts behind them, doesn't it seem obvious that the Judge is Mr. Owen? All of the other cases are proven true. Judge Westbrook's case is solid that Al-Khaled was guilty. That would make Westbrook the most logical suspect, since he's the only one who was only doing his job. Couldn't he have done this whole thing out of abstract justice?"

It was Doctor Constantine’s turn to speak. He got up and looked over his notes.

“The motive is sound. But the facts tell us otherwise. Westbrook's time of death puts him late Saturday night. Maine and a couple of others were still alive Sunday morning. Unfortunately, we have no records kept by any of the victims regarding the exact order of the deaths. But according to Maine’s last call prior to his death, only three people were still alive on the island on Sunday morning. They were himself, Dr. Andrews, and one of the women. This is where things get tricky. According to the autopsies, body temperatures of the corpses provide conflicting reports between the time of deaths, and Maine’s final report.

"Point One: The body temperatures of Mrs. Romero and Miss Beauregard put their time of deaths both during the day on Saturday, August 10th. So the third person still alive at the time of Maine’s call had to have been Miss Callahan. Point Two: According to Maine’s report, it was believed to be Doctor Andrews that was the killer. The best possible theory points us to him having gone insane and killed everyone, since three of the deaths were medical related, and thus he drowned while trying to swim to the mainland.

“It’s the easiest theory to accept, but it doesn’t make sense. Andrews’s body temperature during the autopsy shows that he was in the water for at least six hours before it was found beside Maine’s body. And I can back that up by the visual evidence that he’s been underwater for some time: his body was half floating, while the other half was held under the water by a dozen or so rocks of significant weight. So that means that someone was alive _after_ Andrews was dead.

“Blaine’s body temperature puts his time of death Sunday morning as well. So it boils down to U.N. Owen being one of the three: him, Maine, and Miss Callahan.”

Morley jumped up.

“There’s no fucking way that Charlie could’ve been him! He would never!”

“Calm down, Morley.” Legge said authoritatively. “Let Dr. Constantine continue his report.”

Morley sat back down after giving a defeated sigh. Hayward responded by rubbing Morley’s back in support.

“Sergeant Morley.” Dr. Constantine spoke up. “You’ll be relieved to know that it couldn’t have been Maine regardless. Now, let’s just allow for the possibility…whether or not we want to accept it, that Maine had dropped those rocks onto Blaine’s head, strung Miss Callahan up and hung her, and then shot himself in the chest.

“If that were the case, who had the gun? Sgt. Maine’s own gun was washed up on the shoreline, and it was discovered to have blank bullets. _Blaine’s_ gun on the other hand, was found just outside of Judge Westbrook’s bedroom door.”

“Whose fingerprints were on it?” Taverner asked.

“Miss Callahan’s.”

“So…that means—” Hayward began.

“And it couldn’t have been Miss Callahan either. Here’s why: If she had in fact dropped the rocks onto Blaine, then shot Charlie in the chest, took the gun back with her to the house before she hung herself, that would make sense.

“But there’s one thing worth mentioning that cancels her out completely: There was a chair inside the Lounge that had water stains on it. We can only assume she used that chair to stand on it as she placed the noose around her neck, and then kicked away the chair.

“However, the thing worth mentioning as you’ll recall, Sgt. Hayward, was that the chair itself wasn’t found knocked over. It was stacked against the brick foundation of the fireplace. This tells us that _someone else_ placed the chair _after_ Elizabeth’s death.”

“That leaves us with the last logical person: Lamar Blaine. And there is absolutely no way in _hell_ that Blaine could’ve thrown those heavy rocks up in the air and positioned himself well enough for the rocks to land directly on his head, even if he strung up Elizabeth and shot Charlie. It just makes no sense. Besides, his police department knew Blaine, and it was obvious that he was not suicidal.”

Legge cleared his throat. “In conclusion.” He took over, as Dr. Constantine took his seat. “We can only agree that there had to have been someone else still alive on the island. Someone who tied up the loose ends. But where did they go? The marina’s staff testified that they saw no one could’ve gotten to the island before we did.”

“So that leaves us where exactly?” Morley asked.

No one answered.


	13. The Confession (Original Ending)

**Two Weeks Later**

Lieutenant Legge sat in his office looking over a case file regarding a stabbing in a nearby neighborhood. There was a knock on the door.

“Come in?” he asked.

Morley entered. He had a baffled look on his face.

“Sir? Remember how we couldn’t crack the Soldier Island Murders?” he asked.

Legge looked up from his paperwork. “Yes?”

“Well…a family that went jet-skiing in that lake, found something while they took a break swimming.” Morley explained, before taking out a plastic zip-lock bag from the folder he was carrying. Inside the zip-lock bag was an SD card. “They brought it back to their hotel…and notified the local authorities regarding the contents of what was on the card. And…well, you might wanna get your laptop ready.”

“Have you checked it for viruses?” Legge asked.

“Yes, sir. It wasn’t a trick to get our network infected if that’s what you’re thinking.” Morley said. “When the authorities contacted us, they explained that the answer to the Soldier Island case is inside this card.”

Legge responded by opening up his laptop, and letting Morley take over.

Morley took the card out of the bag and stuck it into the laptop’s SD slot. Going to File Explorer, he navigated until he found the clip he was looking for:

**Soldier_Island_Confession.MP4**

“I played the first couple of minutes to be sure this wasn’t a scam, sir.” Morley explained. “But it’s not. Are you ready, sir?”

“Play it.” Legge said.

Morley nodded, and clicked on the mouse button.

The video window opened up.

**QUICKTIME: Soldier_Island_Confession.MP4**

Okay…here we go. Phew…Um…hi. By the time you watch this video, I will already be dead. I have to make this quick because the police will be coming shortly. I locked my door and barricaded it with my dresser, buying me a little bit of time. This is my confession. My name is Edward Fowler. I came onto this island pretending to be Aidan Marshall. He’s been dead for two weeks. I saw to it myself. I took his place for this weekend. And here’s why:

Through my younger days, I felt this weird…urge. I never considered it healthy. Then again, my therapist told me that it’s normal to have vivid imaginations. Just as long as I never follow through with them. This urge of mine was to kill. But here’s the twist. I never actively plotted or sought to kill a single human being in my life! Especially an innocent life. I always believed that it’s not necessarily murder, if the victim deserves to die.

And then, last year, everything changed. It all began with a man that crossed paths with my life. His name was Aidan Marshall. A fucking monster if I ever met one.

I made the connection to him when I learned about the mistrial that let him loose and identifying the owner of the car…that took the lives of my little brother and sister, Gary and Linda Fowler, and the subsequent death of my heart-broken mother.

I then researched the case prior to the incident. Judge Leonard Westbrook. An otherwise straightforward man had slipped this one time, and because of his selfishness, I suffered personal loss. Aidan was never prosecuted for his crime. Why? Because it was at a Trump rally. People hate the guy so much that they’ll allow for the murder of his supporters. And the Judge was never held accountable because the incident did not occur in his jurisdiction. As for Marshall, he wasn’t held accountable because his fucking bail money was made from an online petition formed by his fucking fans.

That’s when something inside me snapped.

That’s when I knew that there was something severely wrong with our country.

Too many times have we as a nation let social justice get in the way of _true_ justice. Plenty of cases where the guilty got away with their crimes. Cases of deliberate murder, and out of the reach of the law.

Unsure of how to deal with my grief, I formed my own emotional support group, one consisting of other people who have suffered cases of injustice. I was amazed at the stories I heard from those who attended:

-Juliet Mandrake; a young woman who had lost her fiance at the hands of his boss, a corrupt politician, who simply wanted what he could not have.

-Peter Schmidt; the nephew of a woman who needlessly died at the hands of a broken healthcare system. 

-Irene Lee and her three teenage sons; who lost their father to a combination of police brutality, and domestic terrorism.

-Mr. and Mrs. Thompson; parents of a wrongfully expelled student because of her sexual preference, and who killed herself from the pain. 

-Gabriel Turl; once best friends with an Army Veteran who had hit hard times, and tragically made his way into the wrong shelter at the wrong time. 

-Francis Cannon; a sweet old landlord who was smitten with an elderly tenant viciously murdered by an illegal couple who have committed similar acts in other sanctuary cities.

-And last but not least, there was Jessica Callahan. Something about her intrigued me the most. She didn't open up until afterwards, when I met her for drinks at the local bar. She didn't feel comfortable telling the whole group but she did confide in me. She had told me of how jealous her sister was. Elizabeth. Elizabeth had quite the following on Instagram. She was popular. She was beautiful. She was successful. She had everything in the world except for that which she most desired; Jessica's boyfriend. And when she couldn't have him, she decided to sabotage their relationship. So Elizabeth posed as Jessica by texting C.J. and telling him they were over. What Elizabeth did not count on, was how C.J. felt about Jessica. And Elizabeth's only regret was that he did not love her back.

Having heard all I wanted to hear, I decided I would take action. I would punish these people that have wronged the names I have mentioned. With everyone's help, I found my future victims' contact information and invited them all accordingly to Soldier Island. And as if it were a sign, everyone accepted. 

I had my acting coach, Ian Morris, draft up a few “scenes” for mediocre actors to carry out; the voice-over recording of the indictments, and the fake news story about Miss Callahan’s crime.

By the way, Morris had no objections whatsoever to what I was doing. He was an acting coach, a booking agent. As long as I paid, no questions were asked. Besides, he was responsible for a couple of cases of injustice himself. So killing him with the slow-acting cyanide wasn’t _that _big of a deal for me.

There was one other loose end I had to tie up before I set foot on that island. Aidan Marshall. Having found out about his peanut allergy, I decided to reach out to him on LinkedIn. I told him I was interested in the type of work he was doing. Once we met up in his apartment, it was a simple getting-to-know-you meet and greet, before I finished him off with some peanut dust in his vape-pen, just as I had planned for my own staged demise. Once he was dealt with, I would simply take his place for the weekend.

I don’t want to waste the camera’s chip or battery, so I’ll move on to the events of the island itself. I had to make sure that our sole source of transport was inoperable, so I had Morris contact the Narracott brothers with a fake emergency phone call, at a time that I knew we would already be on the island. I made sure the thumbtacks were placed perfectly in front of all four of the Fred Narracott’s tires, before I stepped aboard the ferry, and assumed the role of Douchebag Aidan Marshall.

Once we arrived, I hiked up to where the radio antenna was, and installed my little radio jammer. This would ensure that no calls for help would be made to the mainland. I wanted us completely cut off from the rest of the world.

And now, for the accounts of the murders. I knew I had to go first, based off of the nursery rhyme. Plus, this would eliminate me from the pool of suspicion, and I could move around the house unobserved, since no one would check my room.

But first, I had to take care of dealing with Mrs. Romero. It was simple, but painful. During the year after I lost my little brother and sister, I had several ulcers from the stress. I was prescribed sleeping pills, and was able to hold off consuming them, until I had a lethal dose in my possession. Prior to dinner, I took the whole bottle, crushed the pills into a whole clout of dust, and kept it inside the compartment of Aidan’s vape-pen.

As soon as the indictments were being declared, I poured a glass of water from the bar, opened the compartment, and emptied the contents into the glass, before I came ‘rushing over’ to Mrs. Romero’s aid. As soon as she drank it, I knew she was as good as dead. It was only a matter of time. I strongly believed that her husband was the mastermind behind the Clark death, but she was still an accomplice.

Next came my part to play. And I will admit, it was the most difficult one so far. Difficult, but not impossible.

Firstly, there was Doctor Andrews. I knew he was a bundle of nerves as soon as I saw his face on the boat. So all I had to do, was push enough glasses of whiskey in his direction, that he wouldn’t be able to focus when taking my pulse after I ‘choke to death’.

Then, there was the matter of the physical symptoms of the peanut allergy. I found them in a now-discontinued skin lotion that causes a swelling reaction when it comes into contact with human skin.

And once I dabbed my vape-pen into the bowl of peanuts, the stage was set. I died, and everyone else went a-shambles.

While they were carrying me up to my room, I was close enough to the foyer table that I knocked over one of the china figures. They must’ve not noticed it. As I expected, they were preoccupied.

As soon as I was sure that everyone else went to sleep, I slipped downstairs and removed the second china figure for Mrs. Romero.

The next morning, I stayed put in my room while everyone was moving about the house. I figured by now they would be searching for an unknown assailant. While they went back inside, I slipped out the window of my room, climbed down the tree, and made my way towards where Senator McCreevy was sitting. Needless to say, it seemed apparent that he was dead…mentally at least…well before he arrived on the island.

And then came the moment that I found to be very amusing. The old ‘one of us is a murderer’ line. I was able to overhear some conversations throughout the rest of the day. One of them was between Judge Westbrook and Doctor Andrews. The Doctor, besides being a nerve-ridden old fuck, was also a gullible old fuck. He thought the idea of Judge Westbrook being Mr. Owen was absolutely ridiculous. So I decided to take advantage of his trust.

Of course, when I heard that Romero was going down to gather firewood for the furnace, I had to act fast, if I was going to stay as close to the nursery rhyme as possible. So I sneaked downstairs after him and hacked him in the back with a machete that I bought the day before.

While everyone else was running down to the basement to find Romero’s body, I hurried upstairs, slipped into Lockard and Blaine’s rooms and took their revolvers. I hid them away in the pillowcase on my bed. I knew when they would search frantically for it, they wouldn’t dare move my dead body to check under the pillows.

I then ran back into the Kitchen. I found Miss Beauregard’s epi-pen there. I immediately emptied the contents, draining the insulin, and filled it up instead with potassium cyanide. I strung up the plastic bee up against the window. It seemed a little childish, but I thought it was a nice touch.

Once their search of the house was over, I checked both guns. Finding Lockard’s gun to have blank bullets for whatever reason, and Blaine’s to have live bullets, I decided to really have some fun with my five remaining victims.

I knew it was Westbrook’s turn to die. Part of me wanted him to die last, so I could have a moment to tell him about the pain he’s caused me. But after all, the Chancery rhyme was the sixth line. He had to be the next victim. So I decided to play up on his alliance with Doctor Andrews.

Before they all returned to the dining room, I had written a forged note to the Judge, pretending it was from the Doctor. As the Doctor, I told Westbrook that I had the guns, and one of them was blank. What I needed from him, was to take Miss Beauregard’s silver yarn, fashion it into a wig, and let me fire a shot into the air while he waited at the foot of the stairs. I told him it would take place after I’ve set up the seaweed in Miss Callahan’s bedroom.

At the same time, I wrote a message to Doctor Andrews and left it in _his _room. This time, I claimed to be the Judge, telling him the exact same thing, only from this end, I’d need the Doctor to be able to convince the others that I was shot through the head, that I would appear to be the next victim.

I did all of this to lead these two idiots under the assumption that they would work together to snake out the real murderer.

In the pitch dark, I waited by the top of the stairs. Sure enough, Miss Callahan stormed up to her room, opened the door, and screamed the house down. I then bolted into action. My eyes had adjusted to the dark quicker than the old Judge’s eyes. He was standing there, waiting for the cue of the gunshot before he would fall to the floor.

What he wasn’t counting on, was the nozzle of Blaine’s gun pressed right against his forehead. I muttered a very quick “Remember Gary and Linda Fowler.” before I pulled the trigger, sending him hurling back down the stairs, while taking _Lockard’s_ gun and dropping it at Westbrook’s feet. I really wish I could’ve seen the look on his face. All these deaths…crimes committed right in front of him. I would’ve loved to see his face when he’s not in power anymore.

When they returned to find his body, I ran back to Blaine’s room and tossed his gun back on the bed, before returning to my own room, to catch my breath.

The second part of my forged note to Doctor Andrews was that after everyone else had gone to bed, the Judge would meet with him outside of the house, by the dock. The poor guy still had no idea. He was also probably the only one that wasn’t paying attention to the nursery rhyme.

When he ran out to the dock to meet the Judge, and found me instead, his nerves went to pieces. He was so afraid of death that he thought I was a ghost. He barely put up a fight, before I gained the upper hand, dragged him into the lake, and held his head underwater. To make sure he stayed in place, I grabbed as many rocks as I could find and placed them on top of his body.

After making sure that Andrews swallowed my red herring, I returned to the house and unhooked the bear head from over the front door. I stuffed some rocks into the bear’s mouth and tied the headboard to the antenna. It was a gamble, but I figured that _someone_ would investigate the source of a signal, once it seemed apparent that everyone knew who Mr. Owen was.

I watched from my bedroom window. To no surprise at all, I saw that Blaine approached the antenna. A few nudges on my radio jammer, and it was bye-bye Blaine.

Now came the moment I was looking forward to the most. Two people, so paranoid, that anything could happen. And they both had guns.

And to my luck, they stumbled upon the body of Doctor Andrews. And that’s when things got intense. I was kind of hoping that Miss Callahan would shoot Lockard. It was risky, but luckily for me, she picked up _Blaine’s _gun instead of Lockard’s.

I then set the stage up in the Lounge and activates the television set. I had banked on several factors; the knowledge of her guilt, the decline of her social media popularity, combined with the overwhelming tension of having just shot a man. It was a gamble, but one that paid off. I walked into the Lounge to find Elizabeth Callahan swinging from the noose.

I then took the chair she used and stacked it against a wall somewhere. I then took the gun that she threw away, careful not to get my fingerprints on it, and threw it on the bed of the Judge. This would leave a lot of questions unanswered.

You’re probably wondering by now what’s gonna happen to _me_ after all of this. I can assure you I wasn’t planning to get caught, nor was I planning to get away with my crimes. After I finish recording this, I will take the card, put it in a zip-lock bag and throw it out of my window and into the lake. Then I will have taken my last little dose of cyanide, in order to complete the rhyme. My mattress has been stuffed with several bags of ice. This will cool down my body temperature after I’ve died, thus throwing off my time of death to keep it in accordance with the nursery rhyme.

Now you’re probably wondering why the suspense. It’s simple.

I was hoping suspicion would fall onto the Judge. I made sure that the name of Aziz Al-Khaled was mentioned in the allegations, in order to lure the Judge into a false sense of security, while at the same time, exonerate me from the investigation.Since Al-Khaled was just as guilty as the other nine victims, the real Marshall included, Mr. Owen wouldn’t have been _a_ murderer, but logically _the_ murderer, a.k.a. Judge Westbrook, the Executor of Justice. That was the paradox of it all.

So when the police enter the house, they will find ten dead bodies, and a riddle that couldn’t be solved on Soldier Island.

Even if I hadn’t done all of this, I still don’t expect to live long. I’ve never been convicted, but I have been condemned. I received my own death sentence…in the form of a visit to my primary physician. Leukemia. He told me I had a year or so to live. I don’t want to spend whatever sentence I’m given, contained to a bed with drugs as I shrivel away almost nothing. Instead, I will use the last of my cyanide, and leave behind evidence of Marshall’s peanut allergy.

There is little left for me to say. Let the police take this confession and do with it what they will. But I will leave you with this last note.

This country has got to get it’s shit together. If not, things will only get worse. Soon, this entire country may become just like Soldier Island. Murders happening left and right. Suicides. No justice. Until there is no one left. If we don’t change, the last remaining person will see to his own fate…

…And Then There Will Be None.


	14. The Alternate Ending

**CHAPTER TEN: One Little Soldier Boy Left All Alone; He Went and Hanged Himself, And Then There Were None**

“He’s…he’s been dead for hours.” Charlie said, his voice growing somber.

Liz’s eyes widened. “How do _you _know?” She asked.

“The muck from the water.” Charlie explained. “It wasn’t kicked up until just now when I stepped in. He was buried underneath some of these rocks.”

That’s when Liz heard it. Something in Charlie’s voice. Something changed. The same man she had made love to earlier seemed distant…cold…untrusting…untrustworthy.

Liz’s breathing became rapid. Her mind began to race. She knew the kind of tone Charlie was taking.

“Well…” she began quickly. “Maybe…maybe Blaine drowned him and buried him under the rocks. He did say that he went to search for him. He could’ve done it then.”

Charlie stood up and glared at her. “And then I suppose Blaine forgot about the trap that he set up? Or better yet, he planted that trap there to kill himself, having just turned suicidal?!”

“Okay…okay…” Liz said, her hands shaking. “Well…maybe the Doctor set the trap for Blaine—”

“Liz! Wake up!” Charlie shouted, scaring Liz. “There is no one else alive on this island!” He exclaimed, his eyes growing watery. “No one. Except the two of us!

Liz looked into Charlie’s glaring eyes. The sudden change in his behavior startled her. It made her question everything.

“Damnit, Liz. I trusted you! I loved you. And now…after everything?!” Charlie asked, his voice cracking.

And then suddenly, the two of them looked at the guns, then back at each other.

In a flash, Liz grabbed Charlie’s gun, and Charlie grabbed Blaine’s. They aimed at each other.

“Don’t come any closer!” Liz exclaimed.

“Liz…just put the gun down. You can still walk away from this!” Charlie said, lowering his other hand to a less violent position.

“Don’t fucking do that, Charlie! You’re the one that gave me your gun. This is on you just as much as it’s on me!” Liz said.

“Remember, Liz…” Charlie insisted. “This isn’t how that nursery rhyme goes. It doesn’t add up!”

“Stop it!” Liz demanded. “Just stop!”

“Why?” Charlie asked. “Because I’m right? Let’s be real here. I am a cop. It’s in the job description that I might die in the line of duty. But I will be _damned_ if I die in someone else’s place. Imagine, if Philip Lockard were here!”

“That just explains everything so nicely!” Liz said, back away from the dock. “If what you said about Lockard being dead is true, then it’s obvious that you’re Mr. Owen! I only have your word that Lockard committed suicide! How do I know you didn't kill him earlier?! And now you're here to see the rest of us off! You’re the only one that wasn’t accounted for! I _know_ I’m not Owen!”

Charlie lowered his aim an inch.

In a weird sort of way…she was right. He wasn’t supposed to be here at all. It made even less sense that Liz could’ve possibly have killed all of these people. Something inside him told him that it just couldn’t be true.

_But if Andrews was already dead, who set the trap for Blaine?!_

Giving a defeated sigh, Charlie tossed Blaine’s gun on the dock.

“If you’re so certain of that…then go ahead. Shoot me.”

*****

Legge and his team were startled by the sound of a gunshot coming from the island.

Crouching, Hayward shouted. “Shots have been fired! I repeat, shots have been fired!”

Another few minutes had passed, before several patrol cars swerved into the parking lot, and one mobile unit came into view with a Zodiac boat in tow.

“Took them fucking long enough!” Legge muttered.

*****

Liz looked at the body that started floating in the water next to the dead Doctor. She then looked up at the mainland and saw flashing lights of red and blue.

Heart plummeting to her chest, she backed out of the water and immediately ran back up to the house.

When she got to the front door, she slammed it shut and locked it tight, like a cornered mouse pursued by an army of cats.

She then eyed the last remaining china figure that stood on the table. Screaming in agony, she went to the table, picked it up and threw it across the room, letting it smash against a wall and shatter into a dozen pieces.

Covering her face in panic, she walked into the Lounge. Finally catching her breath, she lifted her head, and stopped moving.

In front of her, dangling in the middle of the whole room, was a noose. And a chair sat right underneath.

Suddenly, the tv hanging over the bar turned on, startling Liz.

The channel was set to a breaking news story.

_“…thanks Jim. In the world of Instagram, it seems that big time cosmetics influencer Elizabeth Callahan, of the username @CallahanCosmetics has been exposed as the anonymous person responsible for the apparent suicide of her sister’s boyfriend, C.J. Barclay. The influencer, who has over 2.5 million followers on Instagram, was said to have created several fake accounts, and committed several acts of online bullying targeted against Barclay. As this was revealed, a lot of her fans were not happy with the news.”_

_ “I really looked up to her…and she let me down. She let all of us down.”_

_ “I thought that she was different from all of these other social media gurus. But they’re all one and the same. They’re nothing but heartless cash-grabs. I’ve told all of my friends to unfollow and block her.”_

_ “I honestly think she should be sent to life for what she did. It’s just inexcusable.”_

_ “…and as we’ve pulled people aside for their feedback, already, Miss Callahan’s social media following was decreasing by the minute. As of right now, she is down to a little over 13,000 followers. Such a heavy drop. We’ll have more on this as it unfolds.”_

Liz’s face was wet with tears. She knew it wasn’t true. But no one would believe her. Especially now, when the police take her off the island in handcuffs, having been surrounded by nine corpses. They’ll never believe her now. She’s ruined.

And worst of all, she just shot the man she loved. Charlie Maine. Even if she were cleared, if it were seen as an act of self-defense, and even if her story wasn’t told on live television, how could she live with herself, now that she’s lost him forever?

Looking back at the noose, she immediately decided what to do.

With trembling legs, she stood on the chair as she wrapped the noose around her leg.

_“One little Soldier Boy left all alone…”_ she thought to herself.

“Goodbye, Charlie. I love you…” she said out loud.

She then pushed forward her leg to kick the chair away.

*****

Just as she was about to kick away the chair, the door burst open.

“POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR!” A voice shouted.

Liz’s vision began to darken, as she pulled the weight of her body down from the noose.

“LIZ! NO!” another voice cried out.

And then, multiple gunshots! And before Liz knew it, she lost her balance and fell to the floor, choking and gasping for air.

Someone picked her up and held her in his arms.

“Are you fucking crazy?! Don’t ever do that again!!” the voice said to her. The voice sounded…emotional.

Regaining her vision, Liz looked up at her supposed rescuer.

It was Charlie.

“What…you’re alive?!” She reached up.

“Shh…it’s okay. You’re safe now.” Charlie assured, helping to slide the noose off of Liz’s neck.

It was then that she realized that Charlie and a few others aimed and fired at the hook where the noose was hanging, thus preventing her from committing suicide.

“Is she okay, Maine?” Legge asked.

“I think so sir.”

Liz shook her head. “No…no, no! I’m ruined. There…there was a news story…on the television there…they defamed me. Now everyone thinks I’m a murderer…”

Hayward went to the television and pressed the power button.

_“Are we rolling? Okay. And…you said it’s for a show? Okay. I’ll be credited, right? Okay. Sorry. Um…thanks Jim. In the world of Instagram, it seems that big time cosmetics influencer Elizabeth Callahan…”_

“Shut it off, Dave.” Charlie insisted, holding Liz’s face close to his chest.

“Sorry.” Hayward said, turning the television off. “But that’s the same guy, Boss. The one from Morris’s agency. The one who found his body. It seems whoever Mr. Owen is, did more than one kind of recording here.”

“But…I don’t understand…Charlie…I…”

“Shh…don’t talk about it.” Charlie interrupted.

“No, what I mean is…who set up the noose, and set the tv going? There was no one else.”

“Not exactly.” Morley’s voice came from outside the Lounge. He dragged someone into the room. Someone with handcuffs on his wrist. When Charlie and Liz saw who it was, they were baffled.

“He says he’ll come quietly. He doesn’t want an attorney. Just wants to make a taped confession.” Morley explained.

The man in custody…was Aidan Marshall.

He looked up at Charlie, and he offered a light smile.

“I see, Mr. Lockard, that you were smart enough to give her the gun with the blanks.” Aidan said.

Charlie helped Liz stand up, as he glared at Aidan.

“Since we know who Mr. Owen is…there’s no harm in me telling you that I am _not _Philip Lockard.”

“Ah.” Aidan said. “That explains why you had a gun as well. Well, since we’re sharing secrets, I might as well reveal that I am not really Aidan Marshall.”

Liz remained behind Charlie. “Who are you then?” She asked.

“Edward Fowler.” He said.

Charlie and Liz realized right away the significance of the name.

Edward turned to Morley.

“Don’t bother reading me my rights. And I don’t want an attorney. I only want to have my confession tape recorded. Everything will be explained.”

Morley responded by tugging Edward along out the front door.

*****

Liz sat on the edge of the back of an ambulance in the parking lot, with a blanket over her shoulders and a cup of coffee. She was watching as dozens of local authorities, policemen, coroners and others, crowded the docks as they were carrying seven body bags from the Narracott boat and into several ambulances.

A local news van was also nearby, but Charlie was very specific in leaving Liz alone, while he was prepared to handle any questions.

“What began as a simple weekend getaway ended in a weekend of pandemonium and tragedy. I’m Hank Ravin, and I’m standing at the local ferry dock here at Lake Soldier in Pennsylvania, where for two days, ten individuals were taken over to the isolated island in the middle of the lake, in what was believed to be a simple weekend excursion. But now, authorities are on sight as they bring back seven of the ten individuals in body bags, and one individual in police custody. I’m here with one of the other two remaining individuals, Police Detective Charlie Maine of the NYPD. Detective, thank you so much for speaking with me.”

“Certainly.”

“So Detective, I’m sure our viewers at home are anxious to hear what exactly happened this past weekend. And I’m sure that you’d like to leave out names out of respect for those who unfortunately passed away, but can you just provide us with what you can disclose?” McCallister asked, offering the microphone for Charlie to speak into.

“Well, I’ll try to shorthand as best as I can. We were all led to believe that it was a simple weekend getaway, courtesy of an anonymous person who identified himself as Mr. U.N. Owen. We all arrived Friday night, but it turned out to be a trap. The person in question had left a recording accusing each of us of having committed crimes in the past and getting away with them.”

“And I understand that you were operating undercover in the place of someone else?” McCallister asked.

“Yes, I was trying to find out who Mr. Owen is before I even knew what his intentions were. The next thing we knew, people began dying in suspicious ways.”

“Were you able to find this ‘Mr. Owen’?”

“You see at first, we thought he was hiding on the island. But after checking the whole place out, we came to the realization that it was in fact one of the ten. Because he tampered with the antenna, there was no signal whatsoever. So we were stuck on this island, deliberately prevented from making communications, and also unable to escape because of bad weather.”

“And we noticed that the third person that came off the island alive was taken into custody. Is he the one that referred to himself as Mr. Owen?”

“Correct. We’re working out the motive, but we’re certain it has something to do with abstract justice. I’m afraid that’s all I can say.”

“Well thank you for your time, Detective.” McCallister said, before turning to the camera. “We’ll have more on this story as it unfolds. From PBPA, I’m Hank Ravin.”

*****

Once the cameraman gave the all-clear, Charlie returned to where Liz was sitting. He noticed as soon as she saw him, she averted her eyes.

He crouched down to meet her gaze. But she refused to look at him.

“Hey. You okay?” He asked.

She shook her head.

“Liz. Please talk to me.” Charlie pleaded.

Liz wrapped the blanket around her shoulders tighter. “How am I supposed to talk to you like everything’s okay?” She asked. “I fucking shot at you.”

Charlie nodded. He understood where she was coming from. He moved forward to take a seat next to her.

“Liz…you’re right to be upset. I’m not going to take that from you. And it wasn’t fair nor right of me to deceive you by giving you my gun without telling you about the blank bullets.”

“Why did you have blanks to begin with?” Liz asked.

“I swapped them out when we first arrived on the island. I honestly didn’t know there would be others, so I couldn’t take chances.”

“But…I shot at you.”

“Only because I asked you to.”

“Why?”

“I figured if my team would hear the gunshot, they’d speed things along.”

“Even when you suspected me of being the killer?”

“I’ll admit, I did panic when I found Dr. Andrews’s body floating in the water. But when I saw how scared you were when you thought _I _was the killer; I knew that something just did not add up. As crazy as it sounds, something in the back of my mind told me that there was someone else still alive on the island. It was just impossible to believe either one of us was Mr. Owen. I knew I wasn’t. And it just didn’t make sense for you to be. So I coerced you into shooting me, not only to speed up the arrival of the police, but to keep Mr. Owen believing that his little scheme was still taking shape.”

“But as soon as I shot you, I pretty much branded myself.”

“I already took care of it with the Lieutenant. And for that matter, out of respect for the families of the dead ones, all of the indictments will remain buried.”

Liz looked up at him. “You mean…?”

“You won’t have to worry about your sister. Just as long as you don’t give up on her.”

Liz smiled and wrapped her arms around Charlie.

“I’m sorry I thought you were him.” Liz said.

Charlie kissed Liz on the head. “Same.”

“So…what happens now?” Liz asked.

“Well…there’s only one way for the nursery rhyme to end.”

“And what’s that?”

“One little soldier boy finally found the one; he asked her out on a date, and then there were none.”

Liz chuckled. “Sounds like the perfect ending.”


	15. The Alternate Confession

**VIDEO CONFESSION**

**CELL B, LAKE WALLENPAUPACK POLICE STATION**

**SUBJECT: EDWARD STEVEN FOWLER**

**08/13/19**

*Ahem* Okay. Is this thing rolling? Okay. No, listen. I need to do this my way. You’ll have everything you need to know. I just…I need to get everything off my chest. Just…just let me. Okay. Here we go.

My name is Edward Fowler. And this is my confession.

Through my younger days, I felt this weird…urge. I never considered it healthy. Then again, my therapist told me that it’s normal to have vivid imaginations. Just as long as I never follow through with them. This urge of mine was to kill. But here’s the twist. I never actively plotted or sought to kill a single human being in my life! Especially an innocent life. I always believed that it’s not necessarily murder, if the victim deserves to die.

And then, last year, everything changed. It all began with a man that crossed paths with my life. His name was Aidan Marshall. A fucking monster if I ever met one.

I made the connection to him when I learned about the mistrial that let him loose and identifying the owner of the car…that took the lives of my little brother and sister, Gary and Linda Fowler, and caused the subsequent death of my mother.

I then researched the case prior to the incident. Judge Leonard Westbrook. An otherwise straightforward man had slipped this one time, and because of his selfishness, I suffered personal loss. Aidan was never prosecuted for his crime. Why? Because it was at a Trump rally. People hate the guy so much that they’ll allow for the murder of his supporters. And the Judge was never held accountable because the incident did not occur in his jurisdiction.

That’s when something inside me snapped.

That’s when I knew that there was something severely wrong with our country.

Too many times have we as a nation let social justice get in the way of _true_ justice. Plenty of cases where the guilty got away with their crimes. Cases of deliberate murder, and out of the reach of the law.

I had confided in these beliefs with my acting coach, Ian Morris. He actually told me about a couple of examples of ‘getting away with the crime’.

And that’s when it hit me. This was the answer I needed. The answer to find closure. The answer to satisfy my one insistent urge. The answer that would hopefully one day, send a message to the entire world that this way of living must end now.

My little brother and sister were killed just two days after Westbrook let Marshall loose. So I determined to get my revenge in the best way possible. I would have Westbrook suffer for two straight days. Helpless. Watching as death approached nearer and nearer.

With Morris’s help (he has a background in hacking into databases and covering his tracks) I was able to dig my way into such fine examples. Cases of people who escaped justice, like Aidan Marshall, and Judge Westbrook. And believe me, if you look into it, these people were all guilty. Not just them…but the type of people they were.

A shady illegal couple that preys on elderly old people for their money. And they’ve always picked their targets in sanctuary cities, thereby protecting them from ever being convicted, let alone deported.

A crooked politician that jeopardizes the lives of his employees for his own personal gain; tearing lives apart in attempts to satisfy his own needs.

A doctor that actually favors a broken health care system.

A cop that sympathizes with domestic terrorism.

A religious homophobe, responsible for the education of young children.

A contractor that frames a city for the deaths of innocent men from a building collapse, by signing over property rights and claiming no ownership of the building.

An online bully, under the guise of being a role model.

Trust me. These people were all guilty, and they all deserved to die.

As I was conducting my research, I stumbled upon the Ten Little Soldier Boys rhyme. And I decided to use that to my advantage. I thought the phenomenon of the numbers decreasing one by one was intriguing.

Soon, I got all of the information I needed, including minor…confidential things. Aidan’s peanut allergy, Miss Beauregard’s diabetes, Mrs. Romero’s nerves. I had everything I needed to put this plan into action.

I had Morris draft up a few “scenes” for mediocre actors to carry out; the voice-over recording of the indictments, and the fake news story about Miss Callahan’s crime.

By the way, Morris had no objections whatsoever to what I was doing. He was an acting coach, a booking agent. As long as I paid, no questions were asked. Besides, he was responsible for a couple of cases of injustice himself. So killing him with the slow-acting cyanide wasn’t _that _big of a deal for me.

There was one other loose end I had to tie up before I set foot on that island. Aidan Marshall. Having found out about his peanut allergy, I decided to reach out to him on LinkedIn. I told him I was interested in the type of work he was doing. Once we met up in his apartment, it was a simple getting-to-know-you meet and greet, before I finished him off with some peanut dust in his vape-pen, just as I had planned for my own staged demise. Once he was dealt with, I would simply take his place for the weekend.

I don’t want to waste the camera’s chip or battery, so I’ll move on to the events of the island itself. I had to make sure that our sole source of transport was inoperable, so I had Morris contact the Narracott brothers with a fake emergency phone call, at a time that I knew we would already be on the island. I made sure the thumbtacks were placed perfectly in front of all four of the Fred Narracott’s tires, before I stepped aboard the ferry, and assumed the role of Douchebag Aidan Marshall.

Once we arrived, I hiked up to where the radio antenna was, and installed my little radio jammer. This would ensure that no calls for help would be made to the mainland. I wanted us completely cut off from the rest of the world.

And now, for the accounts of the murders. I knew I had to go first, based off of the nursery rhyme. Plus, this would eliminate me from the pool of suspicion, and I could move around the house unobserved, since no one would check my room.

But first, I had to take care of dealing with Mrs. Romero. It was simple, but painful. During the year after I lost my little brother and sister, I had several ulcers from the stress. I was prescribed sleeping pills, and was able to hold off consuming them, until I had a lethal dose in my possession. Prior to dinner, I took the whole bottle, crushed the pills into a whole clout of dust, and kept it inside the compartment of Aidan’s vape-pen.

As soon as the indictments were being declared, I poured a glass of water from the bar, opened the compartment, and emptied the contents into the glass, before I came ‘rushing over’ to Mrs. Romero’s aid. As soon as she drank it, I knew she was as good as dead. It was only a matter of time. I strongly believed that her husband was the mastermind behind the Clark death, but she was still an accomplice.

Next came my part to play. And I will admit, it was the most difficult one so far. Difficult, but not impossible.

Firstly, there was Doctor Andrews. I knew he was a bundle of nerves as soon as I saw his face on the boat. So all I had to do, was push enough glasses of whiskey in his direction, that he wouldn’t be able to focus when taking my pulse after I ‘choke to death’.

Then, there was the matter of the physical symptoms of the peanut allergy. I found them in a now-discontinued skin lotion that causes a swelling reaction when it comes into contact with human skin.

And once I dabbed my vape-pen into the bowl of peanuts, the stage was set. I died, and everyone else went a-shambles.

While they were carrying me up to my room, I was close enough to the foyer table that I knocked over one of the china figures. They must’ve not noticed it. As I expected, they were preoccupied.

As soon as I was sure that everyone else went to sleep, I slipped downstairs and removed the second china figure for Mrs. Romero.

The next morning, I stayed put in my room while everyone was moving about the house. I figured by now they would be searching for an unknown assailant. While they went back inside, I slipped out the window of my room, climbed down the tree, and made my way towards where Senator McCreevy was sitting. Needless to say, it seemed apparent that he was dead…mentally at least…well before he arrived on the island.

And then came the moment that I found to be very amusing. The old ‘one of us is a murderer’ line. I was able to overhear some conversations throughout the rest of the day. One of them was between Judge Westbrook and Doctor Andrews. The Doctor, besides being a nerve-ridden old fuck, was also a gullible old fuck. He thought the idea of Judge Westbrook being Mr. Owen was absolutely ridiculous. So I decided to take advantage of his trust.

Of course, when I heard that Romero was going down to gather firewood for the furnace, I had to act fast, if I was going to stay as close to the nursery rhyme as possible. So I sneaked downstairs after him and hacked him in the back with a machete that I bought the day before.

While everyone else was running down to the basement to find Romero’s body, I hurried upstairs, slipped into Lockard and Blaine’s rooms and took their revolvers. I hid them away in the pillowcase on my bed. I knew when they would search frantically for it, they wouldn’t dare move my dead body to check under the pillows.

I just realized that I said Lockard. I didn’t realize that he was actually the Cop Maine until he said so. That son of a bitch does pretty good undercover. I’ll grant him that.

I then ran back into the Kitchen. I found Miss Beauregard’s epi-pen there. I immediately emptied the contents, draining the insulin, and filled it up instead with potassium cyanide. I strung up the plastic bee up against the window. It seemed a little childish, but I thought it was a nice touch.

Once their search of the house was over, I checked both guns. Finding Maine’s gun to have blank bullets, and Blaine’s to have live bullets, I decided to really have some fun with my five remaining victims.

I knew it was Westbrook’s turn to die. Part of me wanted him to die last, so I could have a moment to tell him about the pain he’s caused me. But after all, the Chancery rhyme was the sixth line. He had to be the next victim. So I decided to play up on his alliance with Doctor Andrews.

Before they all returned to the dining room, I had written a forged note to the Judge, pretending it was from the Doctor. As the Doctor, I told Westbrook that I had the guns, and one of them was blank. What I needed from him, was to take Miss Beauregard’s silver yarn, fashion it into a wig, and let me fire a shot into the air while he waited at the foot of the stairs. I told him it would take place after I’ve set up the seaweed in Miss Callahan’s bedroom.

At the same time, I wrote a message to Doctor Andrews and left it in _his _room. This time, I claimed to be the Judge, telling him the exact same thing, only from this end, I’d need the Doctor to be able to convince the others that I was shot through the head, that I would appear to be the next victim.

I did all of this to lead these two idiots under the assumption that they would work together to snake out the real murderer.

In the pitch dark, I waited by the top of the stairs. Sure enough, Miss Callahan stormed up to her room, opened the door, and screamed the house down. I then bolted into action. My eyes had adjusted to the dark quicker than the old Judge’s eyes. He was standing there, waiting for the cue of the gunshot before he would fall to the floor.

What he wasn’t counting on, was the nozzle of Blaine’s gun pressed right against his forehead. I muttered a very quick “Remember Gary and Linda Fowler.” before I pulled the trigger, sending him hurling back down the stairs, while taking _Maine’s_ gun and dropping it at Westbrook’s feet. I really wish I could’ve seen the look on his face. All these deaths…crimes committed right in front of him. I would’ve loved to see his face when he’s not in power anymore.

When they returned to find his body, I ran back to Blaine’s room and tossed his gun back on the bed, before returning to my own room, to catch my breath.

The second part of my forged note to Doctor Andrews was that after everyone else had gone to bed, the Judge would meet with him outside of the house, by the dock. The poor guy still had no idea. He was also probably the only one that wasn’t paying attention to the nursery rhyme.

When he ran out to the dock to meet the Judge, and found me instead, his nerves went to pieces. He was so afraid of death that he thought I was a ghost. He barely put up a fight, before I gained the upper hand, dragged him into the lake, and held his head underwater. To make sure he stayed in place, I grabbed as many rocks as I could find and placed them on top of his body.

After making sure that Andrews swallowed my red herring, I returned to the house and unhooked the bear head from over the front door. I stuffed some rocks into the bear’s mouth and tied the headboard to the antenna. It was a gamble, but I figured that _someone_ would investigate the source of a signal, once it seemed apparent that everyone knew who Mr. Owen was.

I watched from my bedroom window. To no surprise at all, I saw that Blaine approached the antenna. A few nudges on my radio jammer, and it was bye-bye Blaine.

Now came the moment I was looking forward to the most. Two people, so paranoid, that anything could happen. And they both had guns.

This…unfortunately was where my plan had misfired, and where I now sit in front of this camera to give my confession.

According to my plan, Elizabeth Callahan was supposed to shoot that cop with _Blaine’s_ gun. I hadn’t counted on him giving her the one with blank bullets.

And once she had shot him, I would set the stage up in the Lounge, and activate the television set. I had banked on several factors; the knowledge of her guilt, the decline of her social media popularity, combined with the overwhelming tension of having just shot a man. I had hoped that these would all be enough to coerce her into placing her head through the noose, kicking away the chair, and completing the nursery rhyme.

As soon as I would be sure that she was dead, I would have taken the chair and stacked it against a wall somewhere. This would leave a lot of questions unanswered.

You’re probably wondering by now what would’ve happened to me after all of this. I can assure you I wasn’t planning to get caught, nor was I planning to get away with my crimes. After I was sure of the last little Soldier Boy, I would’ve returned to my room, and taken my last little dose of cyanide, in order to complete the rhyme.

I was hoping to leave behind a murder mystery that would take a while to solve. I was also hoping, when all was said and done, that suspicion of Mr. Owen would’ve fallen on the Judge. I made sure that the name of Aziz Al-Khaled was mentioned, in order to lure the Judge into a false sense of security, while at the same time, exonerate me from the investigation.

Why? Because the police already know that Al-Khaled was guilty. Evidence turned up _after_ his execution that only confirmed his guilt. So that means that Judge Westbrook was only doing his job. Therefore, Mr. Owen wouldn’t have been _a_ murderer, but logically _the_ murderer. That was the paradox of it all.

So when the boat would arrive, there would’ve been ten dead bodies, and a riddle that couldn’t be solved on Soldier Island.

My own life has no further purpose. I’ve never been convicted, but I have been condemned. I received my own death sentence…in the form of a visit to my cancer specialist. He told me I had a year or so to live. I don’t want to spend whatever sentence I’m given, contained to a bed with drugs as I shrivel away almost nothing. I do not seek anything from the court, but for the death penalty. Preferably, death by hanging. The real Aidan Marshall had choked himself, as did Ian Morris. It’s only appropriate that I complete my nursery rhyme, by hanging myself.

There is little left for me to say. Let the court decide what they will. But I will leave you with this last note.

This country has got to get it’s shit together. If not, things will only get worse. Soon, this entire country may become just like Soldier Island. Murders happening left and right. Suicides. No justice. Until there is no one left. If we don’t change, the last remaining person will see to his own fate…

…And Then There Will Be None.


End file.
